Author's Note: Yay, quicker update than last time! I'm actually surprised that this story has gotten this long; I originally expected to end it a lot sooner. But with this new twist I don't think I'm anywhere near being done. So I hope it's okay with you guys if this story just keeps going and going and going and going… haha. It'll end eventually, just not just yet.

P.S. I suck at coming up with chapter titles. Very cheesy for this one, but oh well! Hope you like it anyway! Please review!

Chapter Thirty-Two

Words of Wisdom

"Can you believe the nerve of that kid," Steve ranted after his shifted finally ended. They were in Two-Bit's car and Steve hardly took notice as to where they where going. He figured they'd probably end up at Buck's place like they had the past couple nights. "The little shit's got no idea what he's talkin' about." He looked over at Two-Bit for support. He had been uncharacteristically quiet since they had gotten into the car. "Right?" he prompted.

Two-Bit sighed heavily. He glanced over at Steve wearily before focusing back on the road in front of him. "No, he doesn't know what he's talkin' about," he finally agreed slowly. Steve nodded, feeling validated in his anger. "None of us know what we're talkin' about when it comes to this," Two-Bit continued unexpectedly. "Not Pony, not Darry, not me… just you and Soda."

Steve openly glared at him. "Well, what do you expect me to do?" he demanded.

Two-Bit shrugged casually. "I dunno," he said flatly. "Talk to him?" Steve snorted derisively. "Why is that such an outrageous idea?" Two-Bit demanded, suddenly angry. Steve stared at him blankly. He had never seen Two-Bit really angry before. "Steve, when do you ship out?" Steve was silent as he turned to stare straight out the windshield. He didn't want to answer. "When do you ship out?" Two-Bit repeated firmly.

"Four days," Steve snapped. "I ship out in four days."

"So what's the plan?" Two-Bit asked. "You just gonna avoid your best friend for the next four days? Then you ship out and he may never see you again? Is that really how you want to leave things?"

"Stop the goddamn car," Steve growled. He didn't need this. He didn't need to be reminded that in four days he was leaving home for the first time in his life and he might not come back.

"No," Two-Bit said flatly.

Steve grabbed the handle, fully intending on jumping out of the moving vehicle. Two-Bit saw this and swerved over to the side of the road, slamming on the breaks and bringing the car to an abrupt halt. Then he reached over and grabbed Steve's arm to keep him in the car.

"You can't avoid this, Steve," he said, meeting Steve's eyes. "Even if you do avoid Soda for the next four days, you'll still have to ship out and you'll still have to fight."

"You tell me you wouldn't be doin' the same thing if it were you," he shot back. "'Cause remember, it just as easily coulda been you."

Two-Bit sighed heavily. "I can't say what I would be doin'," he admitted. "But I would like to think that I would want to spend as much time with my family as I could while I could."

The way that Two-Bit had said it, Steve could tell that he wasn't just talking about his biological family. He was talking about their family. The Greasers. Because after all, they were family.

"I just…" Steve started. He paused. He swallowed hard and put his head in his hand. He found that he had no words for how he was feeling.

"What if you do avoid him," Two-Bit said slowly, a little more gently. "You don't go back there for the next four days. Then you get on the bus and leave Tulsa. Are you okay with the idea of never seeing him again?"

Steve looked at him. He felt the anger deflating. After a few minutes of silence Two-Bit cautiously removed his hand, watching Steve carefully obviously looking for signs that he was going to run. When Steve remained in his seat Two-Bit slowly turned back to the steering wheel, carefully pulling back out into the road. Steve knew where they were going. Part of him still wanted to run, but part of him knew that this was something that he had to do.

As they pulled up to the Curtis house it was already dark out. It was getting late but there was still light coming from the living room. Two-Bit parked alongside the curb and turned the engine off, but didn't move. They sat there for several long minutes in silence. Finally Steve took a deep breath and mechanically reached out and opened the door. Two-Bit followed his lead, walking two steps behind him as he made his way up the walk in front of the Curtis house. It was an odd feeling. Going to Soda's house had always been like going home to him. He had always been more comfortable here than at his own house. He had never felt this anxious before.

He hesitated for just a moment on the porch, wondering what kind of reception he was about to get on the other side of that door. Two-Bit waited patiently behind him. Finally he reached out, turned the doorknob, and entered the house. Inside he found that the living room was deserted. He moved through the living room to the kitchen and found that Pony was sitting at the kitchen table with textbooks and papers spread out in front of him. Darry was standing over him, clearly checking his homework while he worked. They both turned to look as Steve and Two-Bit entered.

"Hey," Darry said, clearly surprised by their appearance.

"Hey," Steve returned flatly. He glanced around and took in a calming breath. "Soda around?"

"He went to bed about an hour ago," Darry said.

"Oh," Steve said, disappointed. He stood awkwardly in the doorway and shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure as to what to do next.

"You wanna stay here?" Pony asked carefully. "Soda will be around in the morning."

"Yeah, sounds okay," Steve said with a nod.

There was more awkward silence so Steve turned and headed for the couch. He was exhausted. Trying to drink the last three days away while he wasn't working had taken a lot out of him. Two-Bit followed him and settled himself into the recliner as Steve lay on the couch. Two-Bit had been his shadow for the past few days, never leaving him alone. Steve was grateful for that.

He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to get some sleep. Morning was going to come quick and he wasn't looking forward to facing what was to come.

XxXxX

Soda slept even more restlessly that night. He went to bed early and began tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep but too tired to do anything else. He was only vaguely aware of Pony finally coming to bed after he had finished his homework. Soda felt a little better with his little brother sleeping peacefully next to him, but he still got very little sleep.

As the sun began to shine through the window Soda finally gave up on trying to sleep. He carefully moved away from Pony and slowly dragged himself out of bed. As the days went on his body felt heavier. He just didn't know how he would ever be able to deal with this. What if Steve didn't come back? What if he didn't get to see him before he left? How could he live with that?

As Soda limped out into the living room, leaning heavily on his cane, he was forced to do a double take. He had been expecting the room to be empty, just as it had for the past few days. But he spotted Two-Bit leaning back in the recliner, fast asleep. And even more surprising he saw Steve sprawled out on the couch. He appeared to be sleeping at first, but as Soda's footsteps came to a halt Steve's head turned and his eyes opened. There were bags under his eyes and they looked at bit bloodshot, as if he hadn't really slept in days. It wasn't surprising. Soda knew the feeling well.

"Hey, Steve," Soda said a little unsurely.

"Hey," Steve said flatly.

There were a few long moments of awkward silence. "You… haven't been around lately," Soda finally said lamely.

"No… I haven't," Steve said, sitting up. "I'm sorry about that."

Soda gave a half-hearted shrug. "It's okay."

Steve looked at him carefully for a moment. "Do you think… can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course," Soda said. He glanced over at Two-Bit who was still sound asleep in the recliner. "C'mon, let's head outside."

He moved forward, doing his best not to wince too much. His leg was feeling very stiff this morning. Steve followed him out to the porch, closing the door quietly behind him. Soda made his way to the steps. He and Steve had spent a lot of time on these porch steps over the years, just sitting and hanging out. This time felt so much different though. He hobbled down one step and then grabbed onto the railing to help lower himself down to sit on the top step. He slowly stretched his bad leg out in front of him. After a moment Steve followed suit, sitting on the other side of the step.

"Does it still hurt a lot?" Steve said slowly, eyeing Soda's injury as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Soda shrugged. "Sometimes," he said. "It's usually pretty stiff in the mornings. It loosens up during the day though."

"What happened to your hands?" Steve asked slowly as he lit up a cigarette.

Soda looked down at his hands, which were still bandaged up because of his split knuckles from the morning before. "I guess I got a little too aggressive with the punching bag yesterday," he said quietly.

Steve took a drag off his cigarette and then sighed. "I'm sorry I haven't been around the past few days," he apologized again.

"It's okay," Soda assured him again. "If it were me in your position… I'm not so sure I'd want to see me either."

"I just want to… not think about it," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"Not thinking about it isn't going to help you right now though," Soda said carefully, afraid of the reaction he was going to get. He knew that Steve was really on edge right now and it would be easy for his temper to get the better of him. He was vaguely aware of how ironic it was for him to be comforting Steve right now and telling him that he couldn't avoid what was happening.

Steve sighed, his posture taking on a defeated stance. "I know," he said. He looked up at Soda. "How did you cope with all of this?"

Soda took a deep breath. "I guess before I shipped out I did my best to keep it together for Pony's sake," he said slowly, vividly remembered the days after he had received his draft notice. "I didn't want him to know how scared I was. I wanted to be strong for him. Or at least seem strong."

"What about… after?" Steve said slowly.

Soda looked down at the ground. "Well, basic is really not bad," he said. "It's like gym class on steroids. You won't have any trouble dealin' with that." Soda paused. He didn't want to think about what happened after basic. But he knew he had to. For Steve's sake. He couldn't let him go into this blind, like he had. "When you first go out into the field… well everything is real tense. All the new recruits are nervous and likely to start firing at even a hint at danger, which caused a lot of friendly fire incidents. It's always a good idea to stay away from them at first. After a few fights things start falling into place though. Everyone gets into their rhythm and all the training that they drill into your head during basic starts kickin' in." He couldn't bring himself to mention that after the first couple battles the real inept tended to be killed off as well, making the unit less chaotic. It was too morbid and he didn't want to show just how jaded war had really made him.

"Do you think that I can do it?" Steve asked carefully. "Do you really think I can make it back home?"

Soda was quiet. He knew the truth. He knew that no one was guaranteed to come home. Just one bad decision, just one small mistake, could be anyone's end. Simply standing in the wrong place at the wrong moment could prove deadly, and there was nothing you could do to avoid that. Part of surviving Vietnam had nothing to do with skill, but simply luck. And luck was hardly ever with the Greasers. But he knew that these were things that Steve did not need to know right now. If Steve went into this believing that he was doomed from the very beginning he wouldn't have a chance in hell of coming back. He had to choose his words carefully.

"I do think you can make it back," Soda said with as much conviction as he could muster. He looked up and did his best to meet Steve's eyes. "You know how to fight and you know how to look out for yourself. You just gotta pay attention during basic and when you get over there keep your head low and keep your temper in check I think you will come home."

Steve took in a deep, calming breath and then gave him a strained smile. "Thanks, Soda," he said.

Soda nodded. "You just gotta be smart," he reiterated. "You can't lose your head out there. I know you and I know your temper. You can't get angry in the heat of battle because then you can't think straight and then you make mistakes." He knew if anything this would be Steve's downfall. But maybe if he was aware of it he could somehow keep himself in check.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, you're right," he agreed. "I'll do my best."

"I hope so," Soda said. "Because… I need you to come back, Steve. We all need you to come back." Soda hung his head, staring down at his bandaged knuckles. "It's gonna be so much harder without you here," he admitted quietly. Steve had done so much to help him since he had gotten back, and he wasn't looking forward to the void that would be inevitable after he left.

"Yeah, but you'll still have everyone else," Steve pointed out, clearly stretching for some kind of silver lining. "Darry and Pony and Two-Bit will all be here for you."

Soda nodded. "Yeah," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

He suddenly felt guilty for saying anything at all about himself. Of course he would still have the rest of the gang here with him. He didn't need to worry Steve with concerns about himself right now, that would be far too selfish. Steve was the one being shipped overseas by himself and he certainly didn't need to be worrying about Soda while he was over there. He didn't need any distractions right now.

They lapsed into a more comfortable silence, each leaving the other to his own thoughts. Soda borrowed a cigarette from Steve and they quietly smoked as they watched the sun come up over the neighborhood. Soda enjoyed the quiet and he wondered vaguely if they would ever get to repeat this moment again. Would he ever be able to just sit on the porch and smoke with his best friend again? Could they really be lucky enough to have both him and Steve return home after being drafted? He stuck a glance over at Steve, who was staring off at nothing in particular.

Please let Steve come back home… Soda silently prayed to anyone who may be listening. Please look over my best friend. I really need him to come home in one piece.