I felt like I was walking on air as I washed up and got ready for bed, playing and replaying the events of the night in my mind. Finally, I thought – a good memory stuck in my head for once. I crawled into bed, resting my head on my pillow, imagining the warmth of Ben's arms still around me, the beating of his heart against my ear, the two of us swaying softly to the music.

………………….

I awoke with a start to the slamming of car doors and yelling outside. I sat up, looking at my clock: One-fifteen. It was still raining, which made the voices somewhat unintelligible, but it was at least a few men, from what I could tell. I sat frozen in bed, listening, as the voices came closer and I heard footsteps on the porch. By this time I heard Soda outside my door.

"Soda?"

"Stay there, Scout."

I heard the front door open and the screen slam, then voices I recognized. Two-Bit, first.

"Just get him into the bedroom, he just needs to sleep it off."

"I'm fine, get your hands off me, Mathews." That was Darry, sounding belligerent like I had never heard him before.

"Darry, look, don't wake everybody up. Just go to bed. I'll take you to get the truck tomorrow." That voice I recognized as Tim Shepard.

I got out of bed and went into the hallway, where Pony was already standing, peeking into the living room.

"Two-Bit, what the hell happened to him?" Soda asked. "Where'd you find him?"

"I don't know, exactly," Two-Bit said, struggling a bit under Darry's weight. "Found him at Buck's. From what I can tell, he had some sort of argument with Alison and a few guys at Angelo's said they were heading out for a few beers and invited him to join 'em… Guess he had more n' a few though."

I stared, shocked. I had never seen Darry out of control like he was right then. He wouldn't have been able to stand, if Two-Bit and Tim weren't supporting him on either side. To be honest, it was terrifying to me.

"Is he okay?" I asked, startling everyone but Ponyboy, who had known I was there.

"Scout, go back to bed. He's fine." Soda didn't even turn around to look at me, he was staring at Darry.

"Kid, he wouldn't want you to see this," Tim said to me, gently. "Go back to bed."

"Don't get on her case, Shepard!" Darry suddenly yelled, surprising me.

"Darry," Soda started, "c'mon, let's just get you to bed."

"No, Soda. Why can't Scout see this? Hell, she knows I'm no good as a guardian, anyways. She heard the state lady. You know, leaving her unattended and all. I forgot about her graduation, for Christ's sake!"

I was stunned. I had no idea that still bothered him.

"Darry…" Two-Bit tried.

"Shut up, Two-Bit! You don't have any idea how it is, bending over backwards to try to keep things from falling apart and then all you get is people telling you how you're not good enough, you're not doing enough!"

"Darry, c'mon," Soda tried one more time.

"No, you can shut up, too, Soda because you guys know more than anybody that they're right. They're all right. I'm not good enough. Hell, look at everything I've screwed up since I've been in charge. I hit Pony, and lost the two of you for a week, then I almost did the same damned thing again." He stared right at me. "Jesus Christ, I almost hit you, Scout. You deserve better than that. They're right."

"You didn't hit me, Darry." I said, and Two-Bit looked at me. "He didn't. It was just a misunderstanding."

"No, Scout. I'm not good at this. I'm not good enough. Everybody thinks so – the state, Alison…" He was slurring his words and it almost seemed like he was crying, but I refused to believe that. Darry would never cry in front of Tim Shepard.

I, however, was crying. I couldn't believe what he was saying. Two-Bit had told me a million times that the way to find out what somebody was really thinking was to get them drunk. It broke my heart to hear that he was so unhappy, that he doubted himself so much. I never thought he had a breaking point – at least not about what people said about his job as our guardian, anyway.

Two-Bit looked at Darry and said, in the most sympathetic voice I'd heard from him since our parents died,

"Come on, Darry, let's don't do this, huh? You're scaring Scout."

Darry looked over at me. Pony had come over and was standing behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"No. I'm not scared of him, Two-Bit." But I wasn't sure if maybe I actually was, a little.

Darry shrugged off Tim and Two-Bit and stumbled down the hall into his room. Soda followed, and Two-Bit followed after Soda.

I looked up to see Tim still standing where Darry had left him.

"Sorry we woke you up," Tim said. "You shouldn't 've had to see that."

I didn't say anything. I was still too shocked at the whole situation to make any real sense of it.

"He'll be okay, Scout. Just had a bad night, tonight, is all." I couldn't remember Tim ever calling me by my actual name before, and it comforted me, a little, that Darry always had people looking out for him, people who had his back.

Tim walked over to us and handed Ponyboy Darry's truck keys.

"Tell him to call me in the morning if he needs a ride out there."

"Okay," Pony said quietly, then: "Thanks, Tim."

"No problem," he said. "Your brother's a good guy. Just let his troubles get the best of him for one night. He'll be all right."

I heard Tim leave, but couldn't even look up to say goodbye.

His troubles, Tim had said. You didn't have to be a genius to know that we were the main source of his troubles: Soda, Pony and me. We were why he left college. We were why he worked himself ragged. We were why he had no social life, no time with his girlfriend, no time with his buddies.

Darry was miserable because of us.

It was a thought I'd had before, in fleeting moments, but to see it have come to this: Darry, fighting with Tim and Two-Bit and berating himself for not cutting it as our guardian… this just about knocked the breath clear out of me.

Two-Bit emerged from Darry's room and saw Pony and me still standing where he'd left us.

"Go to bed, you two. He's okay. Soda's taking care of him. He probably won't be feelin' too hot in the morning, but it's nothin' I ain't lived through a few times myself." I was silently glad that it was raining and Darry wouldn't have to work the next day.

Pony squeezed my shoulders and turned me back towards the bedroom, but I turned back towards Two-Bit before he left.

"Two-Bit?"

"Yeah?"

"He didn't almost hit me. He wouldn't."

"I know. Go to bed, 'kay Scooter? He's okay."

I watched as Two-Bit disappeared out into the rain.

"Soda will take care of him, Scout. We should just get back to bed." Pony's hand was still on my shoulder.

I didn't answer. I wanted, more than anything, to talk to him about what had just happened, about the side of our brother that had just been revealed to us, but, on the other hand, a part of me wanted to just crawl into bed and fall asleep and forget that it ever happened.

But it had happened. And it felt like it had shaken me right down to my foundation.

I went back into my room and crawled into bed. Pony stood at the door and watched me.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, then. 'Night." He closed my door and I heard him go down the hall to Darry's room. I heard him and Soda talking, then water running in the bathroom. After a while, the whole house quieted down, and I heard Soda and Pony talking in their own bed. I tried to block out what had just happened, to get back to the safe feeling of the dance and leaning on Ben that I'd had when I'd first gone to bed that night.

I finally must have dozed off, but awoke not too much later to the unmistakable sound of Darry getting sick. He sounded pretty miserable, and I didn't hear anybody else moving, so I crept out of bed. Remembering what Ben had done for me after I'd thrown up from drinking, I stopped in the bathroom and got Darry's toothbrush, put some toothpaste on it, and took that and a glass of water down the hall to Darry's room. I quietly opened his door to find him sitting on the side of the bed leaning over his trash can.

"Darry?"

He looked up, an expression of sheer misery on his face.

"Go to bed, Scout."

I walked over to him and handed him the toothbrush.

"I thought this might help, a little."

He brushed and spat into the trash can, then looked up at me and buried his face in his hands.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he cried. "What did I do?"

I sat down next to him and rubbed his back.

"It's okay, Darry."

"It's not okay. Why can't I get this right? Damnit… Alison, and you guys…" He suddenly pulled me into a hug and I hugged back, not too hard, not wanting to make him sick again. He smelled like a bar: cigarettes and beer, and not at all like Darry. I wasn't altogether surprised- this Darry was a stranger to me.

"I love you," I whispered in his ear and let him lay back down onto the bed, mumbling to himself.

I took the trash can and went down to the bathroom, dumping it out and rinsing it in the tub, filling it with an inch or so of water in case he needed it again. Just as I turned, I heard Soda call from the hallway.

"Darry?"

"No, it's me."

"What are you doing?"

"He got sick. I was just rinsing it out."

"Jesus, Scout, it ain't your job to be doing that."

"Well, whose job is it then, Soda?" I was yelling at him, but still somehow managing a whispered tone. "He'd be doing it for us if we were sick. He does everything around here for us, and he still thinks he's not good enough. That's our fault, for totally taking him for granted. No wonder he resents us."

"Scout, that was the drink talking tonight. Darry doesn't resent us."

I didn't answer, because honestly, I was still too confused to know who or what to believe. Soda took the trash can out of my hand.

"I'll take care of this," he said. "You go back to bed."

I went back into my bedroom and lay in bed but couldn't sleep. Besides all that was going on in my head, it had started to storm outside and that just brought back another whole set of upsetting thoughts – while I had used to climb into my parents' bed for comfort, what lay in their bed right then was my miserable and drunk brother who suddenly seemed like a stranger.

I tried and tried to sort out the thoughts in my head but, finally, with nobody to talk to, I sat up in bed and went over to my desk. I turned on my light and began to write, words I knew I could never say without crying.

Dear Darry,

I'm writing this letter to you because I know I'm a crybaby and if I try to talk to you about what you said tonight I'll just cry and never get to say what I mean.

It scared me to hear you say that you believe what the state lady said. It felt like… I don't know, like it hurt my heart to hear you saying those things – that you don't think you're good enough for us, or that somebody else could do a better job. I don't want anyone else. I want you, because you know us, and you love us, and you're doing the best job anybody ever could. But now I wonder if maybe it's too much for you, if I'm just being greedy, by wanting you to take care of us, because I love you. I don't want you to be miserable because you have to take care of me. So I hope it's not me that's making you unhappy, it's just that you think you're not doing a good job when, really, you are. Nobody could do better than you are. I didn't know that you were feeling so bad and now I feel bad that I don't say more often that you're the only person I'd want taking care of me since I can't have Mom and Dad. I hate it that you are so sad because of us… of me.

Please stop doubting yourself, Darry, because Pony and Soda and I don't doubt the job you're doing one bit.

Love,

Scout

I reread it over and over again and still it didn't seem like exactly what I wanted it to say, but I just couldn't seem to get the words to come out right. Finally, I gave up, folded it in half and put Darry's name on the front. I tiptoed down to his room and slipped inside, putting it on the table next to his bed under the toothbrush.

I stopped a minute before closing his door and looked back at him – just barely a man, but having to shoulder all the responsibilities that had been previously split between two parents. I wished I could tell him – and be sure he believed it – how much I loved and admired him.

I closed the door and returned to my own room, falling back asleep to the sound of rain on the roof as the first light of day seeped through my shades.

XXXXXXXXX

A/N: Everybody – yes, even Darry – has a breaking point. Thoughts? And feel free to comment on the last chapter too since the review feature decided to crash for a few days immediately after I posted last time.