I do not own The Outsiders. All characters used, are borrowed with much respect to S.E. Hinton. Thank you to all that have followed me on this journey. Now that we've come to the end, I just wanted to let you know how very much I've appreciated all of the support by way of followers and reviews. Here's one last chapter…

45

"Ponyboy, it's your turn to do the dishes." I called over my shoulder while I sat at the table, going through the bills.

A few weeks had passed, and we seemed to fall back into some of our normal banter; me nagging at Ponyboy, and Ponyboy rolling his eyes at me. Of course now there were differences. We changed. Maybe for the better, or maybe not. Maybe it was too soon to tell, but we'd all changed.

Sodapop was more careful and less reckless. He'd had his heart broken by the girl of his dreams. They were too young to be so serious, but I knew that didn't matter. It took its toll on Soda's heart, and he had no time to heal before being hit with more loss; the loss of Dally and Johnny, and the loss of our brother. Ponyboy would come home to us finally, but the events that took place had scared Soda, and Soda was never scared.

I'd become a little softer, less hard, and thought less of the world in terms of black and white. I'd viewed life with tunnel vision; my priority was to keep what was left of my family together and I stopped at nothing. Unfortunately being so focused on that one thing meant that I was blind to everything else. I didn't enjoy life. I didn't take the time to be with the family I was working so hard to keep. The thing about mistakes is that sometimes you're given the opportunity to learn from them. I'd never take my brothers for granted again.

Ponyboy we were still learning. Time would tell how everything that had happened would change him besides the physical handicaps he now had to live with. Things were still fresh, and still too new to understand fully the extent to which Martin Campbell changed my brother, and it scared the hell out of me because there was nothing that Sodapop or I could do to change it. The only thing we could do was watch, wait, and pray that our love was strong enough, and we'd get him through the difficult times that were sure to come for him.

In the back of my mind I knew that I'd been hard on Ponyboy before, but now I felt like I had a better understanding of it. After our parents had been ripped away from us so unexpectedly, I had this all-encompassing fear that I'd lose what was left of my family. My brothers were the only thing left I had tying me back to my mom and dad, and they became everything to me. I was the oldest, and it was my job to protect them, especially Pony who'd been so young.

Pony, with his wide-eyed view of the world, I thought would get swallowed up by the harshness of life and the bleak reality of where we'd come from. His only chance was to work hard and get out and leave that world behind. But I'd taken my role of guardian too seriously, and somehow in the process of that role pushed him away. The tighter I held onto him, the further away he became, and in the end all of my protection didn't amount to anything. The world still broke through and took him, and although I got him back, there was a part of him that was gone for good.

I continued to sort through the bills, organizing them by the date they'd be due. When that was done, I piled the envelopes together and got up from the kitchen table to put them away in the basket I kept on top of the ice box. I looked at the sink that was overflowing with the days' worth of dishes, and rolled my eyes. I never understood why both of my brothers liked to put off chores until the last possible second, usually until I got after the both of them. I figured it made more sense to get them over with, and have the rest of your time to do what you wanted. One of the many ways we differed.

"Ponyboy Michael Curtis! Those dishes ain't gonna wash themselves!" I hollered as I made my way to the bathroom where he'd been avoiding his chores for the last half hour.

The door was only partially closed, and it swung wide open when my knuckles knocked against the wood. I wanted to ask and see what the hell my brother had been up to for so long while I'd busied myself with the bills, but all thought and reason seemed to disappear when I caught sight of him sitting down on the toilet with the lid down, holding onto Soda's razor in one hand while blood was pooling out of the other.

"No, no, no, no, no!" I ripped the hand towel from the rack on the wall as I fell on my knees in front of my little brother, immediately wrapping his hand up to stop the bleeding.

"What'd you do, Pony? What on earth did you do?" My voice shook as I held the towel tightly around his right hand. My other hand shoved itself into his hair, trying to gauge if he was alright.

He wore his blank stare well. It was the blank look that covered his face the majority of the time now. The same look he was wearing as a result of all that Martin Campbell had put him through. It was the look of someone completely lost, and detached from everything around him. It was the look I wanted to be able to reach beyond, wanting nothing but to know what was spinning around inside of his head.

"Ponyboy, can you look at me?" I practically begged him.

He was staring down at Sodapop's razor as it shook slightly in his crooked hand. It was as if he weren't even there. He didn't even react to me being in front of him, on my knees holding his wounded hand firmly. He didn't respond to my pleading. He didn't even feel my hand as it brushed through the reddish-brown strands of his hair.

"Pony, please." I cupped his face in my hand, and noticed his expression change as his eyes slowly moved to meet mine; finally noticing my presence.

"Darry, I cut myself." His voice was soft and despondent.

"I see that, baby. It's okay, I'll fix it up."

He nodded silently while he watched as I slowly unraveled the towel from his hand. I began to feel a sense of relief as I realized most of the wounds were mere scrapes. There were a couple of deeper lacerations to his fingers which was the cause of most of the bleeding, but the majority looked superficial. As quickly as relief came, so did confusion. I didn't know what was going on with my brother.

"Pony, did you do this on purpose?" I tried to keep my voice steady and calm like Soda would in this situation. I didn't want to make things worse.

Ponyboy hesitated a moment before he looked at me sadly, and then shook his head. My hands moved up to hold his face square to mine so that we were looking right at each other. I stared into those green-flecked irises, searching deep in there for any remnants of who my brother used to be, and came up empty and a little more heartbroken. I sighed and kissed his forehead.

"You can tell me anything. I won't get mad, Ponyboy. I promise."

"I was snooping." Ponyboy whispered.

"You were snooping?" I asked, clarifying if I'd heard him right.

Ponyboy nodded slowly. "I was looking through Soda's things."

Pony looked up towards the open medicine chest, and I followed his gaze and noticed Soda's shaving kit open, along with an open bottle of aftershave. I looked back at Pony, and he cringed a little.

"I didn't know how sharp it was." Pony whispered.

"Why were you going through Sodapop's things? What were you thinking about?" I asked while wrapping his hand back in the towel, trying to understand. He could've asked either one of us, and we would've shown him. He didn't have to hide.

"How old were you when you started shaving?" Pony asked quickly, and suddenly my mind drifted back to the night of the rumble; not long before Ponyboy had been torn from his life and ours.

"Thirteen," I answered and felt the muscles in my face pull. It was an almost eerie moment, but I couldn't help but smile.

"When did Soda?"

"I think he was fifteen. Is that what all this is about?" I sniffed, not even realizing I'd been on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna be fifteen." Pony said sadly.

"Yup. You guys are growing up too fast on me. What the hell am I gonna do?" I grinned at Pony, and he gave me a soft smile.

"You'll get married and have kids, Darry." He said as a matter of fact, and I let out a laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose one day. Hopefully I'll learn how to be a good dad before then." I said, trying to get another smile out of Ponyboy, but he looked at me carefully.

"You already are a good dad, Darry." Pony said softly, and I had to look away or I was going to start crying.

"We should put this away." I said as I gently took Soda's razor from Pony's hand.

I stood up slowly, gathering Soda's things. I turned the tap on and rinsed Pony's blood from the blades of the razor, knowing it was okay. Ponyboy wanted to be like his big brother and was going through his things, playing out what it would be like. It was an accident, and I realized there were parts of my brother I'd never see again, but there were these new parts of Pony that would show up and leave me speechless. He was a survivor with a strength that was understated, but powerful. My little brother was amazing.

"Darry?"

"Yeah, Pony."

"Is there something wrong with me?"

I looked down at Ponyboy as he sat on the lid of the toilet, and sighed. It was the question he'd been asking everyone for months. It'd been the one question he never seemed to get his answer to.

I tidied up around the sink before putting Sodapop's shaving kit and aftershave back into the medicine chest. Before closing it, I grabbed antiseptic, some gauze, and a few bandages out to cover Pony's fingers. When I was ready, I turned back to my brother and nodded.

"Can you walk okay?"

Pony nodded at me, still looking to me for answers.

"Let's go in the other room. I'll patch you up and we can talk, okay?" I held my hand out for Ponyboy, and he took it carefully.

I slowly led him to the couch in the living room and I went ahead and sat down. Pony looked down at me a little timidly, until I gave him an encouraging wink, and tugged lightly on his arm.

"It's alright, kiddo. Come over here and sit by me. Lemme see your hand and we can talk, okay?"

Pony nodded slowly, and let me pull him down so that he was sitting to my left. I eased his right arm so it rested against my lap while I opened the paper packaging surrounding each bandage. I opened the bottle of antiseptic, and got the supplies ready to go to patch up Pony's hand. Pony stared down while I unwrapped his hand from the towel; that blank and lifeless expression that left me feeling unnerved.

"Penny for your thoughts," I whispered as my hand reached over and swept through Ponyboy's hair, hoping he was still with me and not lost like he always seemed to be.

I startled a little when his eyes met mine. His face was still expressionless, but his eyes bore through me almost as though he were trying to figure out my thoughts. He flinched a little as I opened up his hand and exposed the various cuts and scrapes, opening some of the deeper ones on his fingers. We both watched as some fresh blood oozed from his index finger, and I quickly moistened gauze with the antiseptic.

"This'll probably sting a bit." I warned as I started dabbing the gauze along the palm of my brother's hand in an attempt to clean both the blood, and any other dirt that may have been lingering.

Ponyboy jumped a little as he softly hissed, looking back down at his hand while I cleaned it. I knew how much it stung, but my youngest brother just gritted his teeth and took the pain without complaint. I realized then, that maybe Ponyboy hadn't changed so much after all. His whole life he'd been doing exactly that; taking the pain that came with life, and pushing through it without so much as a word.

"You take good care of me. I'm sorry, Darry." The anguish was so clear in Pony's voice even before he broke down.

"What are you talking about, Pony?" I stopped what I was doing, and reached over to hold his face.

"Am I bad?" Ponyboy looked at me, desperate for the answer.

"No, Ponyboy. You're not bad." I stared at him determinedly.

"Are you sure, Darry? 'Cause I think about it all the time and I figure somewhere I must've done something real bad. I must've deserved what I got, right?"

I turned from him and concentrated on bandaging up his hand. I needed to find the right words to convey every thought and emotion I wanted him to know and feel was true. The words jumbled around in my head while I felt his anxiousness build along with my silence. Three bandaids later, I gently took my brother's hand in mine, and kissed it tenderly before holding it tightly to my chest.

"I need you to listen to me, Pony and I need you to listen good. There's not a goddam thing wrong with you, do you understand?"

Ponyboy looked away from me as I tried to hold his gaze, but failed. I could sense that he found no solace in what I was telling him. He looked so confused; distressed as his head shook slowly back and forth, like nothing I was saying made any kind of sense to him.

"Then why? What did I do to make him do all those things to me?" He started to cry.

I pulled my brother into me, wrapping my arms around him and leaned us back so I was resting against the couch and my brother was resting against me. There were so many things that I wanted to say to him, and I hoped and prayed that I could give him peace.

"You've had it pretty rough, kiddo. You're young but you're smart, Ponyboy; so smart. But sometimes there's no rhyme or reason to things. You didn't do anything to deserve any of what happened to you. You were preyed on. Martin Campbell was nothing short of a monster, Ponyboy and you did nothing; not one thing to deserve what he put you through." I held onto my brother fiercely, still trying to protect him.

"I shoulda told you what he was doing. I'm sorry, Darry. I'm sorry." Pony sobbed into my shoulder, and I let him. He'd dealt with so much and he'd been so strong through all of it. He had every right to cry, and I wasn't about to stop him.

"It's not your fault. You were scared, Ponyboy. It's alright, baby. Let it out. Let it all out." I whispered

I held my little brother as he cried. My cheek rested on the top of his head as he curled into me, letting me hold him tight. All pride was forgotten as the last couple of years and its heartaches rolled through, and out of him. Mom and dad dying, losing Johnny and Dally, and the subsequent nightmare he was forced to endure all spilled forth until there was nothing he could do but let it go.

It took a while until my brother's body was relaxed against me, and I'd figured he'd fallen asleep. I sat holding him, letting my own thoughts of the past years float to the surface of my mind and that one mistake on that one night stared me in the face again. Maybe I'd never fully forgive myself for hitting Pony, and in turn setting off a chain reaction of events that would change our lives forever. But I would learn from it, and keep learning from it, and realize how lucky I really was.

"You killed him didn't you, Darry?" Pony's voice was but a whisper.

I felt Pony move to look up at me, and my hand moved up to brush against his cheek as I looked down to stare him in the eye. The details didn't matter. I was responsible, and completely at peace with the decisions and actions I'd made that night. I kissed Pony on the forehead before looking back into his eyes and nodding slowly.

"Thank you, Darry. Thank you." Pony's voice trembled. I nodded slowly, and then brought my brother back into me and held him tight so I could say to him what I'd meant since the day he was born.

"I'd die for you, Ponyboy. I would die for you."

The End.