He was breathless when he finally caught up with her, just as she was unlocking her car door.

"Please, Kathy," he put his hand over her wrist as she was turning the key in the lock, and this time she didn't immediately pull away. She did turn her head away, but not before he saw the tears still streaming down her face. The sick feeling he'd had, which had only slightly waned, returned at full force.

"Let me go," she begged, through her tears. "Please, Two-Bit…I can't keep doing this."

He didn't want to fight with her, but he didn't want to let her go, either.

"Kathy, please. Just let me talk to you. Please, can we just talk? We don't have to go anywhere. We can do it right here, in your car."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Her tone was suddenly accusing, and he realized that she assumed by him wanting to do anything in her car, he was intending that it would culminate in sex. Because, previously - that had been his attitude – as well as the typical outcome.

People in the parking lot were starting to stare, so he turned his hand around hers, unlocking the door, then opened the door with his other hand. He reached inside and unlocked the back door, then climbed in.

Seemingly puzzled at suddenly finding herself outside the car with him inside, Kathy climbed into the front, and Two-Bit silently thanked God, Allah, Buddah, Jesus Christ, Elvis, or whoever was listening.

"Two-Bit, get out." She sounded exhausted, completely spent. "Please. This is hard enough already. Please just let me go. Just - do the right thing, for once, and let me go."

It hurt. It hurt, but she was right. He was always doing the wrong thing. But he didn't usually want to – or mean to. Right then he desperately wanted to do the right thing. The problem was, he had no idea what that was.

"Baby, I might make the worst mistakes anybody could ever make, but I love you, and I ain't gonna ever just let you go."

She seemed unmoved. Even though he'd tossed out the "L-word."

"I love you, Kathy. And I ain't drunk, either. I know what I'm sayin' and I mean it." Christ, he'd said it twice in a row, and she still didn't answer.

So he waited. A long, painful wait, and her answer wasn't what he'd either expected or hoped for.

"Damnit, Two-Bit," she cried, finally. "You're such a goddamned hypocrite!"

He'd been called a lot of things before, but not that. He'd heard the word, for sure, but wasn't sure exactly what it meant. He was pretty sure it had come up in English class, and was similar to irony, but he couldn't remember what that meant either. In any case, he was pretty sure it wasn't good.

"I probably am. I'm sorry." This seemed the best response. He was everything else: asshole, idiot, thief, bad boyfriend… he surely was this other thing, too. He was the worst guy there was – he was believing it more and more with each passing moment of seeing what he'd done to this girl he really, really cared about – this girl he loved.

"I mean, you bitch and moan about your dad and how he isn't there for your mom and you and Katie… but then – where are you when I need you? I know you care about me – Lord knows, there's no way I'd've stuck with you so long if I didn't believe there was something between us – but I can't keep giving you these chances and ending up all alone and hating myself for being stupid enough to trust you again. You're completely turning into your dad – you're becoming the same guy who you claim to hate so much!"

The accusation was as though she had slapped him, and his first instinct was to strike back in rage and defiance. "This is different!" he wanted to yell - but she was right. Somehow in his state of mind his instincts were slowed - and by the time he was ready to strike back in defiance he had already seen her point and realized she was absolutely right.

Gone was gone. His dad had a choice about leaving his family just as much as Two-Bit had a chance about putting something up his shirt that wasn't rightfully his. They'd both failed the people they supposedly cared about. He was a coward, just as much as his dad – by choice, he'd hurt the people he loved more than anyone should have to put up with, and he was about to lose the best thing he'd ever had.

Because he'd been an idiot.

There was no reason he'd spent the weekend in jail except for his own choice to steal something that – she was absolutely right – he had no need for.

"You ain't stupid, Kathy," he insisted. "You're the farthest thing there is from that. I'm the stupid one, and I'm sorry."

"For Christ's sake, Two-Bit! Either tell me why you keep doing this to me – choosing stealing over me – or just… just … get the hell out of my car and let me go. Please. I love you…. but I can't do this anymore. I deserve better."

She let out one sob, then caught her breath and settled back down in the seat.

The silence in the car seemed to go on forever. He had a feeling she was eying him in the rearview mirror and he wasn't thrilled at the fact that he felt like he was sitting there naked, stripped down to his core, horrified at the fact that he had just been called out on his behavior - which was, he had to admit, every bit as awful as that of the man he'd sworn he'd never become. He didn't enjoy being observed in his self-realization. He was pathetic and scared and terrified of the fact that he seemed to ruin everything he cared about. But he supposed that if anyone deserved to see him that way, it was Kathy.

This was it, he knew. She was drawing the line. He had to pull his shit together, and come up with some sort of explanation for why he acted like such a shit towards people he cared about, or she wanted him gone. Gone. He had no doubt that she meant it, too – and he didn't disagree. She did deserve better. Hell, he'd already been gone too many times when she'd needed him, and she'd always been there for him. It wasn't fair. She didn't deserve what he was constantly putting her through.

So he thought about an answer to her question, and swore on his mother's name he'd give it his honest-to-God best shot.

"Kathy?" he whispered, after what seemed like an hour.

"What?" She sounded exhausted. No longer mad, or accusing – just done.

"Can I tell you something?" He could barely talk. He'd never felt so vulnerable.

"Anything," she answered. And she waited. A long time - as he tried to figure out where to start.

"The first time I ever stole something, I was five."

She didn't answer, and he wasn't sure why he was telling her this, but he knew she was listening, and he somehow knew what he was remembering was important, but he just wasn't sure why quite yet.

"I was at the drug store, with my dad. He was checking out, and there were jars of candy up on the counter. He sat me up on the counter, and I was looking at the peppermints. He saw me looking and asked the guy behind the counter how much they cost. 'Penny each,' the guy said, and I remember thinking, great! I'll get one for me, one for mom and one for Katie."

"'Go ahead, get two," my dad said, to me and he turned back to the cashier. I remember being sad, thinking – how can I choose between giving one to Katie or Mom, so I stuck my hand in there and I took three. And I stuck them into my pocket and nobody noticed. Then we went home and I gave one to Kate and one to Mom and they both acted like I'd given them the most amazing gift ever, and my dad made a huge deal about how I'd given up my own peppermint and instead given the two to my mom and sister."

There was still no response from Kathy, but he was pretty sure she was still listening. He glanced at the rear-view mirror and he met her gaze for a second, before she looked down at the dashboard.

"Seems funny – before he said that, I never even considered giving them each one and not having one myself, so I guess that's why people think I'm a selfish bastard. And it seems like they're right, too."

He didn't expect a response, at least not a nice one - but he got one.

"Two-Bit, you were five. All five year old boys are selfish bastards." Her tone was slightly warmer.

He sighed.

"Yeah, maybe. But anyways, it felt good," he continued, "you know - to have something to give to somebody else. I never had that. And I guess that's why I steal stuff. I mean, I help out Ma with stuff at home she can't afford – even give her and Katie stuff they want but would never buy for themselves. My Ma works real hard – you know that. She deserves the stuff I get for her."

"Does she know you steal it?" Kathy asked.

"What difference does it make?" he responded, earnestly. "She deserves it. I can't give her nothing else."

"It's not really yours to give, Two-Bit," she responded quietly.

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but what do I have, Kath? What's Keith Mathews got worth givin'? I ain't got sports and career skills like Darry, I can't fix cars like Steve, I ain't charming like Soda, or smart like Pony. I wasn't tough as Dally or a hero like Johnny… I ain't got anything. Knowin' how to give the people I care about stuff I think they deserve…I got that. That's all I got. That's my fuckin' talent."

He actually worried for a moment that he might cry, because he'd never really allowed himself to wonder why he did what he did… why he stole stuff he didn't need. But realizing how much a part of who he was depending on stealing shit neither he nor they actually needed – well, it made even him sad at how pathetic he was.

"Two-Bit…" she started, but he interrupted.

"No, really - what do I have?" he continued, getting angry at the fact that this self-examination had come up with such negative results. It was perfectly clear to him at that moment that he truly was a bad, selfish person. And it made him sad – and angry.

"I have nothing. So yeah, you're right. I gotta take stuff that ain't mine and give it to people who might like it… That's what I got. I guess I'm a goddamned Greaser Robin Hood. I don't have nothin' anybody wants, so I go get it somewhere else for the people who might want it. And I give it to them so they'll appreciate me, because there ain't no other reason they would, really. I'm a total fuck-up, Kathy, and I don't blame you for wantin' to get as much distance between you and me as possible, because I ain't nothing but bad news. I can't get out of my own goddamned idiotic way." He buried his face in his hands and leaned over, resting his head against the door and absolutely hating the way he felt.

He hardly noticed as she slipped out of the front seat, and was surprised as the door he'd been leaning against opened and he nearly fell out, stopped only by a body coming in. Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the back seat, Kathy by his side, holding his hand.

And Christ, she may as well have been screwing him silly – that's how good it felt to have her hand in his again. He squeezed and prayed again to all available gods that she'd let him keep holding on. But he couldn't look her in the eye, embarrassed about what he'd just told her.

"That isn't who you are," she said. He felt her breath on the back of his neck but couldn't make himself turn around to face her.

"I am. That's what people think about when they hear my name," he said. "Two-Bit… yeah, he's good for the two finger discount on whatever's around. He's a pal, always givin' out candy bars, or cigarettes, nips… If I ain't got that, Kathy, what the hell's anyone want with me?"

She didn't answer, but suddenly her thumb was rubbing his palm, and damn, but it felt good.

"That's not you," she repeated.

"Okay – if you say that ain't me… so who am I, then? I mean; Seriously, how in hell does a clown like me end up with a catch like Kathy Brigham?" He had wondered the same thing to himself a million times, but this was the first time he'd ever allowed himself to actually ask her.

"Do you honestly think that's why people like you – because you steal stuff for them?" She seemed surprised –probably not so much about any revelations he was making about his shoplifting past – but more by this rare show of insecurity. Two-Bit was anything if not cocky – and the fact that he was opening up to her- he hoped – might illustrate the depth of the feelings he really had toward her.

"That's who I am – to people," he responded, quietly. "A clown. A joker. A daredevil… a cheater." He caught himself quickly "Not with girls, I mean – I ain't never cheated on you… just cheatin' people out of their merchandise."

"Doesn't sound like it makes you feel too good," she pointed out.

"It don't," he admitted. "I mean maybe for a second, when I give Katie or Ma something they like, but it doesn't last."

"So… why don't you stop?" she asked. It seemed so basic. But strangely, he couldn't remember ever actually considering it. Not after getting caught, not after a night in lockup… never until right then, knowing that she wasn't just suggesting it. She shouldn't have had to put up with bein' stood up for prom, and he knew that if he didn't want to lose her for good, there could be no repeat performance of the past weekend.

"Wouldn't be able to be getting' you no more fancy perfume…" he said, half jokingly.

"I don't care."

"No more expensive jewelry," he said, and her slight laugh did wonders for the tightness in his stomach. She knew as well as he did that any jewelry he'd given her wasn't the good stuff – even Two-Bit couldn't manage to get in to the locked, alarmed cases where the kept the real diamonds.

Finally turning to face her, he reached out to take her other hand, and much to his relief, she let him, even scooting a bit closer on the seat.

"That's never been who you are, to me, you know. Not a daredevil. Or a clown, or cheater."

He was hesitant to ask, but he wanted – maybe he even needed - to know.

"So who am I, then – to you?"

She leaned her head against his chest and didn't complain as he ran his fingers through the top of her hair.

"Well - you're funny, and fun to be around. You always know how to make other people feel comfortable, and you're really loyal to your friends. You're good to your Mom, and you look out for Katie."

That's everybody else, though," he pressed her – who am I to you? What does a girl like you see in a guy like me?"

"Oh, Two-Bit," she sighed. "Of all the guys I know, I'd have never guessed that you needed to hear this – but I guess I took it for granted because you're always acting so sure of yourself… It's kinda sad, that you really think those things about yourself."

"Yeah, let's don't let that be gettin' out… I gotta have some self- respect left," he squeezed her hand again and her slight squeeze back assured him that this conversation wasn't leaving the car.

"You're sweet, Two-Bit – and romantic, and sexy…"

"Sexy, huh?" he rubbed his thumb up and down her lower arm, but didn't push it.

"I think so," she said, her breath soft against his ear. "And you're a really great guy, which makes it really just suck so much when you do something stupid and I have to go to the prom with Danny Harris."

She didn't sound pissed off any more – just sad. He continued rubbing her arm as he pulled her head up and kissed her hair.

"I really am sorry, baby. I swear if I could go back I'd keep my hand in my pocket and I'da been takin' you to prom."

"I know you would… but you've said that before and then you've just gone out and messed up again."

"I know. I'm hating myself right now for it, too."

"I mean it this time, you know that, right? I mean, I'm not doin' this, not even once more. You mess up, and I'm done." She was dead serious, and he knew it. "And don't think you're getting me in bed anytime soon either – you've got a lot of makin' up for your mistakes to do. I'm thinkin' you're gonna have to be pretty much the best boyfriend on Earth for the foreseeable future."

"I know… and I will." He meant it. The no sex thing was rough – but he knew he deserved it – and he felt like pretty much the luckiest guy in the world that she was still letting him hold her hand after all the mistakes he'd made.

"So… what happens now is up to you. I know you have it in you to be a stand-up guy, Two-Bit… I wouldn't be sittin' here with you if I didn't."

It was up to him. And while it scared him, - the thought of just being Two-Bit – not Two-Bit - the thief, he had the feeling right then, with his girl's head against his chest, and her hand in his – that he just might be able to do it. It was worth it.

She was worth it.

"I love you, Kath," he whispered into her ear, amazed at having said it again - well more than once in the very same day– but this time, surprisingly, there was nothing frightening about it.

"I know," she answered back, turning to place a soft kiss on his neck. He pulled her tight against him and swore he wouldn't mess things up again – he couldn't.

From now on, he was going to pay full price… because sometimes the discount just wasn't worth it.

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Danny Harris belongs to somebluedecember, who also helped with beta-ing on this story. Reviews are appreciated.