*deep breath* Here goes nothing! Here's the epilogue of Intervention. I kept putting it off because, well, I guess I didn't want to end it. But here it is. Enjoy the epilogue. :) Concrit is welcome with open arms.

I do not own, in any way, shape, or form, The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton, nor do I own On the Road to Find Out, written and performed by Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam).

Thanks so, so much to my betas, Hahukum Konn and Marauder and The Q.

So on and on I go, the seconds tick the time out
There's so much left to know, and I'm on the road to findout
Then I found myself alone, hopin' someone would miss me
Thinking about my home, and the last woman to kiss me

Waking up in an empty bed still scared him sometimes. After Evie had left the first time, he never was able to get used to sleeping alone. That was just the problem, being alone. He hated having no one to wrap his arms around, to pull closer to him, and hold him just as he held her. That's what scared him, not having Evie to hold on to.

He didn't blame her, of course not. If anything, he admired her for having the courage to get out. At first he'd hated her. He hated her for taking his kids with her, for leaving him alone, in pain. Now he was grateful, even if he was still hurt. But he was hurting in so many ways, it didn't quite make any difference. The scars on his arms from years of putting a needle killed, his migraines were progressing to an even worse state each day, and inside of him he still felt an emptiness that no steady job, wife, kids, or pack of cigarettes could fill. He was empty and aching, and he didn't know why.

When Steve rolled over and didn't see Evie next to him, his heart skipped. It wasn't until he heard her familiar voice that he calmed down.

"William, Patrick, get out of bed right now. If you make us late, so help me God..."

Steve grinned, remembering what day it was. He got out of bed and began to dress.

"Mom, I don't see the big deal. We see Uncle Michael and Uncle Darry all the time. Why's today special?"

Steve stepped out of his room just in time to keep Patrick and Will from beating each other to a pulp. "Not today, guys. C'mon, it's a special day."

"What's so great about today?" Will asked.

"Nothing in particular. Your aunt and uncle are just throwing a barbecue."

"And it would be nice if you two would get your acts together and behave for once," Evie said. She had an air about her that Steve admired. It demanded both respect and authority, which Steve could never get with his sons. "That means no picking on your cousins, either."

"Not even a little?"

"No, not at all," Steve said. "I don't want Darry beatin' the tar out of me again."

Patrick grinned. "Uncle Darry beat you up? Cool!"

"Yeah, you wouldn't be saying 'cool' if you had to eat food through a straw for a month."

"Aww, Dad, you're just getting old."

"Hey, I'm only forty. I'm not that old."

"It's older than fifteen," Patrick said. Will must have tired of the conversation, as he was trailing after Evie, helping her load the car.

"Oh, you can do math, good for you, smartass. Now go upstairs and help Lori get all her shit."

Patrick ran off to his sister's room, which Steve suddenly realized was a horrible idea. An argument was bound to ensue, probably Lori complaining about this boy or that boy, and how they were all ruining her life, and could just go hell, thanks very much. For whatever reason, Evie understood why Lori had, as if overnight, turned into a monster bitch. He'd never understand how she put up with Lori. He never remembered Evie being such a pain in the ass at fifteen.

Steve sat down on the couch and sighed, opening a new pack of cigarettes. For a drug counselor, he was a pretty lousy hypocrite. Evie came in from the driveway and sat next to him, curling into his arms.

"Your sons are monsters."

"Your daughter scares the shit out of me."

Evie smiled and kissed him. "Are you sure you want to go? Darrel would understand if you missed it, you know."

Steve sighed. Hell no, he wasn't ready. He remembered seeing the Weeping Wall once, and telling himself he'd find all of his friend's names on there. Well, he did, but the one he couldn't bring himself to look at was Soda's. Now his best friend had been dead for twenty-two years and it still hurt, just as bad as the day he found out. "Yeah, I can go."

Evie hugged him tightly and buried her face in his neck. He felt her hand gently rub the spot on his arm where his scars still lay; the scars she'd bravely left him over, and even more bravely come back to.

Sure, he didn't have Sodapop Curtis, but he at least had another best friend. That at least meant something to him.

Suddenly there was a crash from upstairs, which was followed by the slam of a door. The two ignored it for a moment longer, until Steve looked down at his wife and kissed her. "I think Carrie White is on the loose again."

Evie sighed. "You take Patrick, I take Lori?"

"I guess that's how it always goes."

Evie got up to talk to their daughter, and Steve followed to find Patrick. He caught up to her and wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling her closer. Things weren't the same, nor would they ever be, he knew that. But things were at least better. So long as he had someone to come home to, three kids who could never get along and a wife, he knew things would at least be okay. Not perfect, but that was just fine. He still had plenty of time to mend the wounds he had. Today would be one of them. Today was Soda's birthday.