A/N: Bonus chapter tonight in honor of the full moon (at least it looks full, and my day at work today implies that it must be) for all you Tim-o-philes. Shepard has entered the building. Thanks for your awesome encouragement and support. I was petrified to go with this plotline, but everyone has been great.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that afternoon, Darry was at my door.

"Scout, you up?"

"Yeah," I said. I couldn't really sleep; I was mostly just lying there, entertaining myself with equal parts of boredom, pain, and fear. "What?"

"Tim's here, he wants to talk to you."

"Who?"

"Shepard. Tim. Can he come in?"

"I guess so." I was flabbergasted that he had come to see me. I knew that Darry had called him, asking him to keep his ears open about who had hurt me, but seriously, I had no idea why he would want to see me. But then I remembered how he had picked me up and taken me home when Darry and Soda forgot about me, and how cool he had been about the whole thing.

The door opened, and I saw Darry look at me like he had no idea what Tim would want with me either.

"It's okay, Darry," I said. He gave me a look that told me there was no question that he would be listening in on us.

Tim sauntered in. He was taller than I had ever noticed- maybe taller than Darry, even. I guess I had never greeted him lying down. He came over and sat on the side of my bed.

"Hey, kid," he said. "You look terrible. You wanna tell me who the fuck messed you up?" He was much like Dally in that way. No beating around the bush.

I just stared. I wasn't gonna be intimidated by him. My allegiance to Soda was stronger. I wasn't going to cost him his best friend at a time when he needed him so much.

"I know you got the shit scared out of you," he said.

I continued to stare. I believed that he did know. I imagined he had been in some pretty hairy situations himself. I nodded. I refused to cry in front of Tim Shepard. I am sure no self-respecting greaser would cry in front of Tim, unless they were dying. Probably most people felt that way about Darry too, except our family.

"Why do you even care about this anyway, Tim? You hardly even know me." I really did want to know.

"Dally was a pretty great friend of mine," he said. "And I know he cared about your family a whole fucking lot."

I couldn't deny that.

"Well, if he knew about this, he would be out for blood. But he ain't here, so I'm here doin' it for him. I wanna personally fuck up whoever laid his hands on you."

"Well, if you find out who did it, you go right ahead." I immediately realized that I had just talked back like a wiseass to the toughest hood in town. Who did I think I was, anyway?

To my shock and great relief, Tim grinned.

"You must o' got something on him. What'd he sound like, smell like?"

"I can't tell you anything, Tim. I don't know. It was dark. He smelled like cigarettes and beer, just like every guy on this side of town on a Saturday night."

"You can't tell me anything else, or you won't? I'm sure he threatened you if you told, but that ain't gonna be a problem, kid, 'cause he's gonna be dead. I'm gonna fucking kill him. I don't take any pity on sick bastards that rape little kids, 'specially my friends' kid sisters."

"He didn't rape me," I said, softly, looking at the floor.

"You know he would have," he replied, almost as quietly as I had spoken. I did, too. I knew it.

I actually considered, for a moment, ratting out Steve to Tim. At that point in time I truly wished him dead. But I kept my mouth shut.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I don't know."

"Don't be sorry, kid. You ain't done nothin'. But that bastard's gonna be sorry he ever touched you."

"Well, I hope you figure it out, then." I did. I hoped somebody figured it out so I wouldn't have be the one to tell. I didn't plan to tell. Ever.

"Plan on it. Anything else me and my boys can do for you?"

That suggestion was pretty comical. My life problems, other than the current one, did not generally require the services of Tim Shepard or any of his gang. Out of respect though, and appreciation for the offer, I did not laugh.

"I can't really think of anything."

"Well, you let me know, kid. You still got that phone number?"

"Yeah." I was sure I did, somewhere.

"Well, don't be afraid to use it. I'm gonna have your back, just like Dally woulda done."

"Thanks, Tim."

"No problem. You want the door shut?"

"Yeah, please."

"Seeya, kid. Heal up."

"Bye, Tim." For some reason I kept finding myself kind of liking Tim Shepard. Though his reputation stated that he was way tougher than Dallas had been, he didn't scare me nearly as much as Dally had sometimes. While Dally was fiery and easily incited, Tim burned with a quiet rage, and he had a sense of calm invincibility. I had never really seen him explode. In fact, I had never even seen him yell. He was just...smooth. Cool. I couldn't explain why, but for some reason I trusted him. Thinking about this kept me busy for quite a while, as I heard Tim and my brothers talking in the living room. Eventually, I heard them say their goodbyes, and I decided to attempt to go out there.

I gingerly sat up and stepped onto the floor. I hurt so much more as time went on. I tried to walk without using any of the muscles in my upper body, which hurt like hell. Pretty much every muscle in my body hurt, actually. This was more difficult than I had anticipated. I felt along the bed and wall, finally reaching the door. I opened it and the minute they heard me, Darry and Soda jumped up. Pony was fascinated with something on TV and didn't even turn his head.

"Shouldn't you be lying down?" Soda asked.

"I don't want to be in there alone," I said. "Can't I just rest out here? I want company." Nobody said anything about the fact that I was scared to be in my room alone, though I'm sure they all knew what was going on.

"Yeah, come on over here," Darry said, motioning to the spot next to him on the sofa. I scuffed over and sat, then turned and lay down, with my head on his lap. He looked down at me.

"How you feelin'?"

"Don't ask," I said. "Let's just pretend this never happened, for now, okay? I just don't wanna talk about it anymore."

"Okay," Darry agreed. The others signaled agreement with their silence.

We sat quietly for a while. Finally I said," I used to think Tim was just like Dally. But now it seems to me like they're pretty different, aren't they?"

"I guess so…" Darry seemed to be thinking about it.

"Yeah, what's with him comin' over to visit you anyway? He hardly even knows you." Pony sounded almost annoyed.

"I don't know. Darry was the one who called him to tell him about this. He just wants to help. 'Cause Dally isn't around to."

"Dallas would have killed whoever did this to you." Soda stated the obvious.

"Yeah, well I'm not so sure Tim won't," I said, "but still, he's not as much like Dally as I thought he was.

We all were quiet, and I know we were all thinking about Dallas, who he had been.

.

Our silence was broken by Two-Bit, whose footsteps came bounding up to the porch. He burst through the door.

"Hey, what are y'all doin' sittin' around on a…whoa," he stopped when he saw me.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, coming over to the couch. I was still laying on Darry.

"Scout had a little trouble while you all took Soda out drinking last night," Darry said.

"Darry," I said. "Stop it. We're not doing that anymore. It's not anyone's fault."

"What isn't?" Two-Bit asked. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I said, "forget it."

"It ain't nothing," Soda said. "Scout got attacked."

"You kidding me? Where?"

"In her bedroom," Soda said. "Asshole came in her window when she was sleepin'."

"Did he…? I mean, he didn't…" Two-Bit looked sick.

"No," Darry said. "but he tried."

Two-Bit turned stony-faced. "Who? Who was it?" he looked at me.

"I don't know, Two-Bit. I couldn't see. It was dark."

"Well, I'm gonna find out, then."

"It's over, Two-Bit," I said. "You can't fix it. It already happened."

Two-Bit thought about what I said. "What can I do, then?" he asked.

"I don't know." I said. I didn't. "Don't treat me like I'm somebody different just because of what happened."

I hadn't even realized that was something that was bothering me until I said it. I just wanted everybody to go back to the way they treated me before this happened: no pity, no guilt.

He thought about it but didn't answer.

"Hey, Soda, I gotta show you somethin', outside. C'mere?" That meant he wanted to talk to him without me around, I knew. Sometimes they all act like I'm just plain dumb. Soda followed him outside and Pony went with them. I'm sure Darry would have gone, too, if I hadn't been lying on his lap.

I painfully sat up and turned to him.

"Go ahead. I know you want to know what they're talking about." But he didn't have to, because they came right back in. Soda came over to me and sat next to me on the couch.

"Scout, do you think it coulda been one of those guys from Jay's yesterday? The guys who came to the house?"

"You saw those guys again?" Darry asked. Soda told him about me spotting them the day before.

"I don't know," I lied. I was torn between wanting to encourage them to think it had been one of those guys, and realizing how unfair it would be of me to send them out after them when I knew full well they hadn't done anything. "Maybe," I added.

"We're goin' to see about those guys," Two-Bit said.

"What if it wasn't them?" I asked. "Look, don't do anything stupid, okay? You guys? I mean it. It could have been somebody else." I didn't know what to do. If I was sticking to my story about not knowing who it was, I couldn't discourage them from going after them; on the other hand, if anyone got hurt fighting with guys who didn't do anything wrong in the first place, I'd feel terrible.

"We just wanna talk to them, Scout," Soda said. Right. I had heard that from all of them before and seen any number of them come back battered and bruised after their "talk."

Please don't let them find them, I hoped, as they left. That was the best solution I could think of at the moment.

Somehow, I got lucky, because in an hour they were back, safe and sound and reporting that those guys had been nowhere to be found.

That night Darry sat with me on my bed. Somebody had washed my sheets and cleaned up the room, and there was no visible evidence of what had happened the night before. Though my brain was replaying, over and over again, just about all the evidence I could handle.

"Scout, you understand why we didn't call the cops about what happened to you, right?"

"Yeah." I did.

"It's just – since you don't have any information about who did it… and you know they would get Social Services involved."

"I know, Darry," I said. We all lived in fear of Social Services. As hard as we were working to be sure we stayed together, all it would take was the decision of some stranger downtown to tear our family apart. They would make what had happened to me somehow look like it had been Darry's fault.

"Everybody has their ears open to find out who did this to you. We'll find out, baby. Somebody will talk." He took my hand and I could see him looking at my bruised wrists, thinking.

I didn't say anything. What could I say?

"Do you want anything? Aspirin or anything?"

"No, the pills Ben's Mom brought are working pretty good."

"I know you don't want to hear this anymore, but I'm really sorry this happened to you," he said. I realized that, in this situation, "I'm sorry about what happened" was equivalent to "I'm sorry for your loss" at a funeral- it was what people said when they really had no idea what to say that could possibly help, even the tiniest bit, but they cared enough to want to say something.

"I know." I imagined this was probably a parent's worst nightmare, their kid getting- or almost getting- raped; I guessed the horror of it had transferred to Darry, since he was the closest to a parent I had, now.

Hey, Darry?"

"Yeah?"

I hesitated to ask, but it felt like maybe if I offered him something he could do to help a little, it might make him feel better.

"Would you mind staying in here, just 'til I fall asleep?"

"'Course not," he said. "Just like the old days, huh?" One of my parents or Darry used to stay with me every night when I was little, rubbing my back until I fell asleep, until I was seven or so.

"I wish it was," I said. "Everything was a lot simpler then."

"You're sure right about that. I'm just gonna go wash up and I'll be in, okay?"

"Okay." Darry left and returned in a few minutes with a book. "You mind if I read?" he asked, and pulled the chair from the corner of my room next to the bed.

"Uh-uh," I said. I was getting really sleepy from the pills. I didn't care if the light was on, I could hardly open my eyes anyway.

"You sleep tight, 'kay?" Darry was rubbing my head. I guess he knew touching my back wouldn't be a good idea. He just pressed his hand softly into my temple, smoothing my hair back behind my ears. It felt good, and I imagined myself as a little kid again, Mom singing softly to me as she soothed me to sleep. It didn't take long for me to sleep.