A/N: The idea for this chapter goes to Chick1996! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy this!

This one's a little different. It takes place during The Outsiders instead of after or before. It takes place the night before Soda runs out of the house.

Story Nine

Steve and Ponyboy

"Baiting for a Start"

As he stared at the window, his imagination got away from him. He knew it was all in his head, he knew he was safe, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding away in his chest as he watched flames roar to life in front of the window, burning the curtains. His throat tightened and he closed his eyes. But he was too panicked to leave them shut.

Ponyboy Curtis watched as the room burned away, trying to tell himself to cut it out but he was already trapped in it. He rolled onto his other side, hoping to get away from it but as his older brother came into view a burning beam fell from the ceiling. His jaw dropped in horror as it landed on his brother's back. No, no, no. Not again. Not again. He could hear the doctor's voice, telling them if he lived he'd never walk again.

And then the flames vanished. Pony sat up, closing his eyes. He wanted it to be over. He didn't want to think about that day anymore. He just wanted it to be over. He swung himself out of bed without knowing where he was going. He just knew there was no way he could sleep.

He crept out of the room, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. His heart was still pounding away in his chest. Oh, he just wanted it to go away. But what did he expect? Ever since the hearing, he'd felt all of it ten times worse. His heart wasn't in much of anything anymore. He felt too weighed down by all of this to really focus on anything at all. The only time it didn't hurt was the rare nights that he managed to sleep without nightmares. Man, he needed sleep.

But he had to calm down first. He began humming Elvis, which usually calmed him at least a little, and headed out to get fresh air. He glanced at the couch as he went outside. Steve Randle was spread all of it at a weird angle. He shrugged. It looked uncomfortable to him but he'd seen Johnny sleep in all kinds of weird and horrible looking positions at the church. Every time he asked, Johnny wold reply "Yeah, I'm comfortable" or "It was comfortable, man!" The latter was if Pony asked or teased him about it later.

Another pang hit his heart and Pony pulled the door open and slid outside. He sat on the porch steps, staring at the gate. He could remember Dallas leaned on the outside of it, laughing as he told Two-Bit to shut his dumb mouth or slamming it behind him as he came in then suppressing a grin when Pony's mom told him to be gentle. If she was outside that was always how their initial greeting would go. If she was inside, he was more likely to shut the gate more quietly then go inside and slam the door.

Ponyboy looked away from the gate, unable to stand it. Why did they have to lose both at once? Why did they have to lose any one, as a matter of fact? The loss of Mom and Dad was still fresh. He shouldn't have to mourn Dally and Johnny too. He buried his face in his hands. It wasn't fair and it wasn't okay. He was beginning to wonder if it would ever be okay. Johnny would always be dead.

Johnny isn't dead, he reminded himself firmly. He's not dead. He isn't dead. He's not dead. He didn't die. He's alive. He's alive, he's alive, he's alive.

He jumped as he heard the door shut behind him and turned his torso to look. Steve leaned against the door, casually crossing one leg over the other and lighting a cigarette as he did so. He held it up in offering. Pony held up his hands and Steve tossed him the pack then a lighter. The younger boy lit up gratefully then tossed them back.

"What are you doing up?" he asked before taking a drag.

Steve shrugged. "Couldn't help wondering why you were up."

"Couldn't sleep," Pony mumbled.

"Ain't you got a History test tomorrow?"

Pony shrugged his shoulders. "So?"

He heard the older boy heave a sigh and knew he was mentally counting to ten to keep patience. He doesn't have to be out here with me, Pony thought. It's his choice. And I sure don't see why he's choosing to be out here. He hates me anyway.

"Kid," Steve said, "you gotta stop this."

"Stop what?" Oh, great. This was going to turn into a lecture. Pony rolled his eyes, annoyed that he was about to be chased out of his spot.

"This. Your grades aren't very you. You're usually a perfectionist about everything. It's annoying."

"Then be glad I don't care anymore," he replied dryly.

"Man, what the hell?" Steve was getting more and more frustrated. Pony didn't have to look at him to know he had his arms crossed and his eyes were narrowed and glaring. "You know you're distancing yourself from everyone."

"I don't see how. I seem to be a lot more like you now."

"How is that a good thing? You were always the one going places! Do you not see that? It's because you saw good things in the world, you were ambitious! You thought you could do it. Now you don't care. You don't even seem like you anymore."

I don't need this. Pony got up and headed for the gate. He'd go on a walk. He tried not to remember that the last time he left in the middle of the night it turned out to not be such a hot idea.

"Oh, no." Steve was suddenly in front of him, cutting him off. "You're not running away from this. You're gonna take this like a man." He shoved the younger kid back, not roughly but hard enough that Pony did stagger backwards a few steps. "That's what you want, right? To be a man? Like the rest of us? Do you know what that would mean? That would mean you're stuck in this damn town forever. The only way you'd ever get out is if that war continues to go on and you get drafted. Does that sound like fun to you?"

Ponyboy glared at him furiously. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to! Getting hard like us ain't the answer. You were never like us." His eyes flashed as he stepped forward. Pony wanted to step back in case Steve pushed him again but he didn't. He stood his ground.

"What do you care?" he finally snapped. "You hate me anyway."

Steve swore. "Are you serious? That's your big defense? That I hate you?"

"Well, you do don't you?"

"No. I don't," he answered shortly. Pony guessed that his face showed his surprise and shock because Steve let out a harsh laugh. "But that's what you thought huh? I guess this thickens the plot." His eyes softened just barely, in fact Pony wasn't even sure how he noticed it. "Kid, I never hated you. Found you a little annoying, sure. But never hated you. I don't even dislike you." He shook his head. "It got annoying to hear your brothers go on. You could do no wrong, you were a genius, you were soft hearted, you were different. But hell, it impressed me too."

Steve moved to the porch steps and sat down. "I don't think you know what any of us think about you. I mean, you were convinced Darry hated you too and that is so wild of an idea I don't even know..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I mean, I'm rude to you. I understand that. But how you got to the idea that Darry hated you?" He rolled his eyes. "Next will be Two-Bit. But if you get to that idea of Soda I'll be really concerned." He watched him for a few minutes then said, "But you are hurting them. You don't see it. But you should."

Pony opened his mouth to make a retort but Steve's angry gaze cut him off. "Kid, don't you dare get pissy with me right now. I ain't been sleeping good and I ain't in the mood." When Pony shut his mouth again, Steve nodded. "Good. Is there anyone else you think hates you?"

Pony shrugged, not wanting to answer that. It felt like Steve was poking fun at him and even if he wasn't, Pony didn't want to be having this conversation. Steve looked away and muttered, "At least you didn't think Johnny hated you."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

Steve was baiting him, he was sure of it. He just wasn't sure why. This is why I think you hate me, Pony thought angrily. These aren't the actions of a friend. "Don't go there and don't talk about him in past tense."

"Why? He's dead, Ponyboy." His voice was harsh and Pony flinched from the words despite himself. "Dallas, on the other hand. He didn't hate you but he sure hated the world. You know, I think his future was determined when your folks died." Pony set his jaw. This was just getting worse and worse. "But I thought, "Hey. You never know." And then Johnny died and we all know what-"

"Stop it."

"No." Steve got to his feet. "You can't go on pretending he's alive. Johnny is dead. He's dead. It's over. He died. Glare at me all you want, Pony. Hell, hate me if you want. But feel something. Stop going around like you're in a bubble. Johnny is dead. He's gone. The fire killed him. He's dead. There's no going back. Johnny's-"

"He can't be dead." Steve blurred in front of Pony's eyes.

"He is." This time Steve's voice was gentler. "You just need to deal with it. You're scaring the hell out of us." He moved to the younger boy slowly, almost as if he were approaching a wounded animal. "You may not see it but we're hurting too. We miss him too. And losing you on top of everything else would be too much." Pony looked up at him, trying to come up with something to say. But words were failing him. "You gotta wake up."

This was a lot to take. He felt like he had been jolted out of a bad dream and what shocked him the most was Steve being the person speaking gently to him now. He suddenly understood why the older boy had been baiting him a few minutes ago. He was trying to draw him out.

"I'm not asking you to make a complete turn around," Steve continued softly. "But a start would be good… Just think about it." Pony managed a nod and Steve gently steered him to the steps, where Pony sat down. The two of them sat together for a few minutes quietly. Neither of them spoke but neither of them had to.

Pony found himself thinking more about Steve than Johnny for once, not that the feeling wasn't welcome. When he was nine, he broke his arm at the park. Steve had been walking by at the time and had been the first one to reach him. When Pony was eleven, he had been distraught about his first D on homework. Steve had laughed when he heard but the moment he saw how much more upset Ponyboy got, he had knocked it off and watched his mom comfort him without saying a word. When Pony was six, he had lost his stuffed dog somewhere between home and the park. Steve had been the one to find it and Soda had said that Steve had been asking people on the street and everything, something that Soda reminded Pony of whenever Pony's displeasure with Steve was obvious.

Maybe Steve didn't hate him after all. He hadn't had to talk to him tonight. But he did. It may not have been the most calming of discussions but it was full of stuff that, if he was being completely honest with himself, he needed to hear. Although he wasn't about to break down all of it (especially the Johnny stuff) tonight. He was too emotionally exhausted. But he cared. He actually cared.

Pony looked at his big brother's best friend, who was looked at the sky, leaning back on his hands. Maybe Steve did think of Ponyboy as a tag along kid but he didn't hate him. Realizing this fact was a strange feeling, one that was definitely going to take getting used to, but it was a pretty good feeling. The first good feeling Pony had had for a while.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Steve asked wearily, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." Ponyboy got to his feet. "I'm going to bed."

Steve stood up. "Tuff enough. I'm close to falling asleep right here."

This made Pony stop and stare again. Was he really prepared to sit with him out here until he was ready to go inside? The other boy groaned. "Kid, are we going in or not? Because I meant it when I said that I'm-"

Pony cracked the first smile he'd cracked in days and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go to bed." He went inside, Steve behind him.

"G'night kid." Steve rolled onto the couch, immediately settling in an uncomfortable looking position.

"Night." Pony turned and went down the hall to his room. It was weird. Most people would hug someone upset. Steve had baited him until he finally showed emotions before he tried to comfort him. And Pony appreciated it. Maybe he could start healing. Maybe he'd be okay.