New chapter! Please read and review! Thanks and sorry for the delay! 

XXXX

"Well its been building up inside of me

For oh I don't know how long

I don't know why

But I keep thinking

Something's bound to go wrong"

-The Beach Boys

XXXX

Ponyboy's POV

It was down to the wire.

A few weak strains of the Beach Boy's "Don't Worry Baby" drifted over the tinny radio that had fallen off the counter when Slim had gunned down the cashier. Easy for them to say, I thought, they aren't the ones stuck in here.

I was still sitting with Kevin, my hands firmly glued to his stomach. He was trying to be strong for his wife and daughter but he was getting quieter, a bit slower. He didn't have long to go…

Still, I refused to move. But I knew that sooner or later, one way or the other, Slim would move me.

Slim, lounging against the wall, trailed his gun on me. Every so often it veered off towards Shakes. Plainly put, Slim didn't like me and he was getting impatient. "You know kids," he drawled, "the fuzz is out there. Just waiting for me to make a mistake." He scratched his head with the barrel of the gun.

Shakes rolled his eyes: What an idiot.

Slim continued, "You really think they'll help you?" he scoffed, looking me squarely in the eyes.

"Not really," I said honestly. The fuzz had never done us Greasers any favors. I still hadn't forgiven them for Dally.

Slim blinked at that, taken aback. Then he frowned. "I really hate smart asses."

I bit my lip and looked down at the tiled floor, my face burning in anger. Slim's legs settled in front of me and he nudged Kevin with his foot. Kevin groaned and my head jerked back up. Slim took one last draw on his smoke and blew down into my face. Then he tossed the butt aside.

"You know, this has been fun. Not as fun as what I did last week but that's another story. But this is definitely in the top five – and I've done a lot in my years. Let me tell you. It's something to be proud of. It really is. Kid, when you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, I mean shit, you've just gotta do something," he babbled.

Shakes exhaled quietly and shook his head.

Slim laughed, a horrible guttural sound filling the room. As he fumbled the gun between his hands, I watched it warily; Slim didn't seem to be the most cautious person when it came to handling firearms. Suddenly Slim stopped, his laugh cutting off abruptly. "But I'm getting bored." Then, with a flourish had the gun in his right hand and was pointing it at my head.

"Be cool," Shakes whispered, whether it was meant for him or me I couldn't be sure.

"It ain't easy," I told him, trying to smile.

"Can the small talk," Slim snapped, annoyed Shakes and I were still trying to joke with each other in this dire moment.

Shoot, for me it was the only way to stay sane.

"If I were you I'd be praying this isn't the last thing you see before you meet your maker."

Oddly enough, an image of Dally Winston flashed before my eyes.

"Will I be?" Slim goaded me, "will I be the last thing you see?"

Not quite…

Suddenly, I remembered my dream from the other night. It hit me like a bucketful of ice water. Johnny telling me to remember what I had learned in another place…something they hadn't taught me…something someone else had.

My mind tried to think fast. Caplan. He had pushed me through hour-long runs, weapon training and some military combat. More importantly he had taught me about ground striking. Usually Crocker and Shep got the better of me in practice, but this time it was my turn.

In the span of a few measly seconds I had an internal fight with myself: Darry yelling at me to think, to use my head and not do anything rash. Me saying to myself that I'd better use my head and do something.

Hell, if I was going to die, it might as well be my fault. I wasn't waiting around for Slim to make the call.

"Are you ready to go?" Slim cocked the gun.

"Not quite." I said before I jerked and dived for Slims's legs, throwing him off-balance. We fell backwards and landed with a thud on the hard tile.

"You little asshole," Slim yelled, trying to shove the gun in my stomach.

God, I hope his finger doesn't find that trigger

"Oh shit!" Shakes exclaimed, realizing what had happened and scrabbling over to us.

On top of Slim, I punched him in the face and tried to knock the gun out of his hand. Slims foot found an approaching Shakes, his hard boot smacking Shakes in the stomach. My friend doubled over, coughing, the wind knocked out of him. Slim wasn't going down without a fight.

I smirked to myself; Darry had actually done me a favor letting me participate in all those rumbles. Swiftly Slim head butted me, stars dancing through my vision, my head throbbing.

I'd thank my older brother later, I thought, groaning in pain I fought to keep my bearings.

Finding a better grip on the gun, Slim jabbed the gun into my side. He grinned at me. "Gotcha," he whispered, firing the gun. My eyes widened in shock and I flinched for the impact of the bullet, but the gun had slipped past my side, held fast between my ribs and elbow. The bullet whizzed past me, striking the ceiling. Pieces of plaster fell to the ground around us.

Taking advantage of Slims surprise, I twisted and knocked the gun away from him. I threw my left forearm onto his windpipe, grabbed his shoulder with my right hand and wrenched him hard, smacking his head against the ground. I did it once, twice and then-

"Ponyboy!" Shakes shouted, gently pushing me off a stunned Slim. "Stop it. Stop it! I'm not going to let you go to jail for murdering this SOB. He's not worth it." Shakes and I stared at each for a few silent, crazed moments and then the remaining people flew out of the gas station; Mrs. Reynolds screaming for an ambulance.

Seeing the cops running toward us, I jumped up and grabbed Shakes's sleeve. "C'mon," I said and hastily walked through the spilled soup and blood, through the stacks of groceries and out the back door.

I needed a moment of peace before I had to deal with everything.

"See," I told Shakes, "Kevin was right. There is a back door to this place."

"Holy shit, man," Shakes breathed. We listened to the murmur of the crowd and sighed, knowing we'd have to face them sooner or later. As we began to walk to the front of the store, Shakes stopped me. Awed he asked, "Pone, where'd you learn to do that?"

I rubbed my head. I could still feel the coolness of the barrel. "Do what?"

Shakes's eyes narrowed curiously. "The takedown. The whole choke hold thing. That was pretty bad ass."

Quickly I came up with: "You know, just part of my army training."

My stomach was icy as I tried to joke nonchalantly. Yet, this apparently worked because Shakes rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Fine. Don't tell me." Then he lowered his voice. "Well whatever it was, I'm just glad it worked."

"You're not kidding," I told him slowly as we walked out of the shadow of the building into the bright sunlight. I winced against the brightness and evaluated the busy parking lot. Cops and reporters were at the scene, as well as an ambulance. Mrs. Reynolds and her daughter were speaking with the paramedics.

I stopped; the weight of the afternoon catching up with me as I saw the paramedics roll out Kevin Reynolds. I got him shot I got him shot ran through my mind.

Frowning, Shakes shook his head, noticing where my gaze was directed. "Hey man, it's not your fault. If he wouldn't have…besides he'll be fine. You helped him as much as you could. More than anyone would have probably." Shakes paused, thought about something and then his easy-going face turned angry.

"Actually, I should brain you for that." He reached out and yanked my arm hard. "Christ, what were you thinkin'? Picking a fight with him?" Shakes voice rose an octave higher and I flinched; a headache was beginning to brew. My head pounded even harder as I saw Darry and Soda.

How in the hell did they already know…?

Soda mouthed something animatedly to Darry and pointed at me. Darry whipped around and then they both began fighting their way through the crowd. Then I noticed Mrs. Reynolds pointing me out to a police officer. The cop took his hat off and scratched his head.

At that moment, I just wanted to disappear.

My attention was turned back to Shakes as he yelled at me angrily. "Goddamn you Ponyboy. I mean, what were you thinkin' pissin' that guy off like that? Don't get me wrong- I am happy as hell to be out of there, but if it had ended up any other way…"

Darry and Soda forgotten, I just stared at Shakes. "What do you want me to say?"

He sighed and ran his hands through his sweaty hair. "Nothing. But I can tell you that if you had eaten that bullet I wouldn't be the one pickin' your brain bits out of the ceiling."

Darry and Soda approached in time to hear that choice comment. My brothers blanched, skidding to a halt. Darry looked like he needed to sit down. Soda grabbed my arm, pulling me into a hug. "C'mere."

When Soda saw fit to release me, Darry didn't hug me. Instead, he put his strong hands on my shoulders and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Sure."

Darry looked at me doubtfully. Then I glanced down at my clothes. My hands and the knees of my jeans were covered in blood. I could feel the knot welling up on my forehead where Slim had head butted me.

"Oh, these old things," I joked lamely, gesturing at my clothes.

Darry's eyes narrowed and he turned to Shakes. "Shakes, are you alright?"

"Sure," he replied. "We both are."

"Ok then," Darry said, his eyes still on Shakes. "We called your mom. She's over with Captain Barker."

Grateful, Shakes nodded. "Thanks Darry." Then he faced to me. "Next time, Two-Bit gets his own damn beer."

XXXX

"Are you hurt?" the paramedic asked.

"No," I mumbled, pushing him away. Soda and Darry had practically forced me over to the ambulance. I sat on the inside of the ambulance, legs hanging over the bumper. Soda paced back and forth as Darry stood off to the side, speaking to police officers and keeping the press away.

"Let them look you over anyways, Pone," Soda said quietly, his eyes following my every move.

"It's always a good idea. You could be in delayed shock." The medic put in.

"Been there, done that," I intoned. But I gave up the fight. It wasn't worth it. "Fine. Relax Soda," I told my hovering brother. He shot me a grin, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it.

I hadn't spoken to Steve or Two-Bit yet. They were hanging off to the side, playing a quiet game of poker on the hood of Darry's truck. Although, every once in a while I'd look up and catch Two-Bit staring at me guiltily.

The medic, his nametag said Ben, stood next to me. "Hand me that kit, will ya Sarah?" he called out to another medic. Placing a stethoscope on my chest, he held my wrist, checking my pulse.

"That man," I asked softly, "Mr. Reynolds, is he going to be ok?"

"I wouldn't worry about that now," he said to me.

I frowned. "You know, when people won't give you a direct answer, it's usually bad news."

"Pony…" Soda began.

"Breathe," Ben commanded.

I took a deep breath and then Ben sighed. "We're doing our best for him." Then he quieted and went through his typical routine, shining a light in my eyes. He tilted my head, examined my face and whistled. "Golly, that guy sure did a number on you." He raised and eyebrow. "Hopefully you returned the favor."

I laughed half-heartedly. "I did my best." Soda coughed, reminding the medic to can the small talk and do his job.

"Luckily there are no contusions. But if you start seeing spots or having headaches get yourself to a doctor." Ben glanced down at my bloody hands. "That yours?"

"No."

Then Ben leaned back and looked at me curiously. "Why'd you do it? You could've been killed." His jaw hard, Soda turned away from us and moved behind the ambulance. Soda couldn't hear about it right now but I knew he'd want to later.

I lowered my voice, watching my brother out of the corner of my eye. "I couldn't not do anything. It felt…wrong."

Besides, I only agitated Slim so much that he shot someone else out of spite. It's all my fault. Igothimshot igothimshot Igothimshot Igothimshot Igothimshot

Taking a deep breath I tried to calm myself, but I knew my hands were shaking.

Ben smiled slightly and patted my shoulder. "It'll work itself out kid." Then he groaned, cocking his head to take a look at the mess of people behind him. "You can get up when you're ready. I gotta take care of this guy."

The guy was Slim. Hands cuffed behind his back, he was being led out by two cops. I watched silently, suddenly smelling his cigarette smoke on my clothes. I felt nauseous. "Is that him?" someone asked me.

"Yeah," I replied absentmindedly.

A quick blur passed me and I started, realizing that blur to be Sodapop. Determined, he marched over to Slim, his long legs crossing the pavement quickly.

"Soda, no…" I hurried after him, catching Steve's eye. Steve jumped off the hood of the truck and we both tried to cut Soda off. He didn't need to get tossed in the slammer too today.

Soda approached Slim. He leaned down and breathed, "You're a lucky man." Soda's words were calm but even five feet away I heard the deadly edge to them.

And that was all Soda said. He turned around, the same way he had come, and caught me coming up after him. Soda threw an arm around me as Steve fell into step with us. "Let's get you home."

XXXX

Ok-this is a long chapter so no complaining this time! ;) Any thoughts as to what you want to happen next?? Cheerio!