A/N: This is actually something I had to do for school. We were reading "The Outsiders" and for an assigment, we had to pick an option of what we could do with the story. One of them was an alternate ending, which I did. Note: This is a one-shot.

Disclaimer: If I owned Outsiders, there would be lots more Two-Bit! But I don't.

"Look at `em run, boys! Look at `em!" Two-Bit's voice rang in Ponyboy's ears, and he groaned as he slowly shuffled to his feet. He observed the empty lot, looking for his "wisecracker" friend, and widened his green eyes when he found him. Blood was dripping down his face and staining his shirt from various cuts and a split lip. His hair and long sideburns looked even more like the color of rust, thanks to the blood. Despite that, Two-Bit was grinning and laughing, much like his grey eyes were. He was already over where his jacket was and opening a bottle of beer. Ponyboy tried to smile, but pain blossomed across his face. A Soc socked him hard on the cheek and it was throbbing.

That night was the date of the rumble between the Greasers and Socs. It was an important fight; whoever won had to stay out of the other's territory. Surprisingly, the Greasers won, and the Socs ran away with their tails between their legs.

Before Ponyboy could do anything else, a hand gripped his arm and dragged him across the lot. He heard Dally's voice quickly say, "Come on, Pony. We're gonna go see Johnny." As he was talking, Ponyboy kept tripping over his own feet. Dally noticed him lagging and said angrily, "Quit draggin' your feet an' hurry it up!" Dally's grip on Ponyboy's arm was like steel and wouldn't budge.

All around Ponyboy and Dally, the rest of the Greasers were cheering and whooping. Occasionally, there was one moaning or cringing in pain, but even they were laughing and smiling. 'Well, why wouldn't they be?' Ponyboy thought hazily, 'We finally beat the Socs. Once and for all! We're finally on top.' He tried to search for Sodapop or Darry, but every movement-every sound-soon turned blurry, and all he could think about was where Dally was tugging him and if Johnny was going to be okay.

Ponyboy was still stumbling around, so Dally suddenly stopped and spun back to where he was standing and slapped him hard across the head. "Get it together, kid," Dally snapped. "'Cause if you don't, one of these times you're gonna trip into the road and get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure Darry would get mighty ticked if he had to pay the hospital bill. So at least try to walk straight, alright? You dig, Pony?"

"Yeah," Ponyboy muttered, "I dig."

And so they started to speed walk once more to the hospital. Ponyboy attempted to stop wobbling like a drunk and ignore the throbbing in his head.

Twenty minutes later they finally arrived at the hospital. Dally all but yanked the front door off its hinges as he strode to the staircase. The secretary sitting at the front desk, though, said, "You can't go up there, sir."

Dally spun toward her, his eyes having that angry glint. When his eyes get like that, you do not want to start a fight with him. He'll most likely bash your head into the nearest wall.

"And why the hell not?" he asked angrily.

The secretary looked up from her paperwork and answered calmly, "I saw you here before. You were with that boy when he was carried in. He is now in surgery, and he will be for a couple more hours."

Dally scowled. "So when can we see him, huh?"

"Tomorrow. Two days from now, at the most. Now go home."

Dally's scowl was still on his face as he barged out of the hospital. Ponyboy, who's head was practically killing him, stood up from the chair he was sitting in and sighed.

"Is that boy actually your friend?" the secretary asked. Ponyboy caught the undertone of disgust, and turned defensive.

"Yeah, he is. Dally's my buddy. He's a good guy once you get to know him, a little." That…was sort of a lie, but it was mostly true. Dally would watch your back if you ever needed it.

After that, Ponyboy wobbled out of the hospital and to the nearest pay phone. Dally was no where to be seen. He dug through his pockets for change, and he started to dial his home's phone number.

Someone picked up on the second ring. "Hello? Who's this?" It was Two-Bit, and by the sound of his voice, he was drunk.

"Two-Bit? It's me, Ponyboy. Listen-"

He was cut off by Two-Bit yelling, "Ponyboy! It's you? Holy shit, man, where are you? Are you alright? Man, do you know how anxious Darry was when you didn't come home? He was about to-"

Ponyboy was getting impatient. "Two-Bit! Listen, can you hand the stupid phone to Darry already? I need to talk to him."

Two-Bit laughed. "Sure thing, buddy. From the looks of things, he wants to talk to you, too. He looks like he's `bout to choke me to death if I don't give him the phone."

The next voice Ponyboy heard was Darry's, and it was a mixture of anxiety, anger, and most of all, relief. "Ponyboy, is this really you?"

"Yeah, Darry, it's me. Can you, uh, pick me up? I'm near the hospital."

"What're ya doin' at the hospital, Pony?"

"After the rumble, me an' Dally headed up to the hospital to see Johnny, but they wouldn't let us see him `cause he's in surgery. Dally got mad an' ran out. Hey, Dar, can you just come an' get me? I'm on a pay phone, and I'm almost out of time."

"Alright, Pony, just hang tight. I'll get Soda, and we'll go get you."

"Okay. Thanks, Darry."

"Not a problem, kid." After that Darry hung up. Ponyboy put the phone back on the hook and rubbed his eyes with his palms. The pounding was now right behind his eyes, and his vision went blurry. He slid down the wall, and rested his head on his knees. Remembering the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, he dug one out and lit it. After the first drag, Ponyboy's vision started to clear a little and the pain decreased.

Ten minutes flew by and Ponyboy saw Darry's truck, Sodapop in the passenger seat. They pulled over, and Soda jumped out and ran to Ponyboy's form. He helped his little brother to his feet.

"You alright, Ponyboy?" he asked.

Ponyboy blinked. "Yeah, Soda, I'm fine. My head just hurts a lil' bit. Nothin' much."

A red Mustang slowly drove by them. Darry, hearing the noise, turned and frownded. "Trouble," he said. The car didn't stop, just drove on down the road. He turned back to Soda and Ponyboy. "Alright, guys, let's get goin' back home." The two younger Curtis brothers piled into the truck, Darry climbing in the front seat. He turned the ignition and the truck turned on, sputtered, then died. Darry tried again, with the same consequences. He scowled, swore, and jumped out the front of the truck, lifting the hood.

After five minutes, Darry yelled, "Hey, Sodapop, does Steve still have his toolbox in the back?"

"Yeah," Soda answered, and he grabbed Steve's toolbox and handed it to Darry.

He gave Soda pop a skeptical look. "Sorry to say this, little brother, but my job is roofing. Cars are your specialty."

Sodapop grinned and began to work on the truck. Ten minutes later, Sodapop shot his head up and threw his hands up in the air. "I give up!" he said exasperated. "Your truck ain't gonna work. It's as good as done!"

Darry sighed. "Great. Just great." Then he yelled, "C'mon, Ponyboy, we're gonna haveta walk home."

Ponyboy groaned but didn't get up. "Do we have to, Darry? I ain't feelin' so hot."

His older brother grunted, "Yes," and being the oh-so-loveable brother he was, grabbed Ponyboy by the shoulders and yanked him out. Ponyboy stumbled to his knees, and Darry helped him up, somewhat regretfully.

"Sorry `bout that, Pony. I'm just really stressed out right now." Ponyboy shrugged; and all of a sudden, a fist connected with his face. He fell to the ground and a foot kept connecting with his stomach. He heard yelling and grunting. Then the kicking stopped as a guy with a madras shirt and white pants collapsed next to Ponyboy. He was groaning and blood was quickly flowing from his nose. Ponyboy struggled to his feet. He was breathing as hard as he could, and he felt his rib cage. There were two bumpy ridges, and by the way they flamed up in pain, Ponyboy suspected them to be broken ribs. He looked around.

Soda was surrounded by two Socs, but he found a piece of pipe, so he was fending for himself pretty well. Darry was a yard from Ponyboy, trying to fight three more Socs, who had switchblades, with a busted beer bottle. One Soc blocked one of Darry's hits, and his shirt fluttered out for a second, revealing the black barrel of a pistol. Ponyboy tried to warn Darry, but he couldn't get his voice to work. His throat just closed up.

Suddenly, one of the madras-shirt-wearing boys jumped back. It was the one with the gun. He whipped it out, barely aimed, and shot.

BANG!

Every sound stopped instantly. The remaining Socs around Soda and Darry scuttled to the one who held the gun. Other than that, nobody moved. Just looked.

At Darry.

His muscle shirt was splattered with blood, but there was one spot, near his heart, where it was absolutely drenched with red. He had is mouth gaped open in an "O", and his lower jaw was quivering. Blood dribbled out of his mouth and trickled down his chin, then his neck, and then got soaked in by his shirt. Then he just crumpled to the ground.

Then, like magic, the world was unpaused. The Socs sprinted to their Mustang, throwing the gun into an alley as they sped off.

Ponyboy stumbled to Darry, Sodapop on the other side of him. "Darry…?" Soda whispered. His older brother's blue-green eyes moved to him. He tried to speak, but as soon as he did, blood flew from his mouth and covered his chin. Dots of blood landed on Ponyboy's and Soda's faces, but neither of them noticed. "D-don't talk. It'll j-just make it worse," Sodapop said. He couldn't rememeber the last time he stuttered like that.

"Soda-" Darry was cut off when he started to cough. It shook his whole body. When he was done, he spoke again. His voice was hoarse. "Soda, Pony, listen to me. Don't take me to a hospital; I know I won't make it. Just…" He took a shaky breath "Stay together, okay? Don't get put in boy's homes, stay together as long as you can. And Pony," He was whispering so quietly that Ponyboy had to bend down to hear him. "don't flunk school, okay? Stay in and go to a real good college, get an education worth living for."

Ponyboy's eyes burned, but no tears fell. "Darry…"

"Promise, Pony." Darry's voice was surprisingly firm.

Ponyboy tried to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. "I…I promise Darry."

Darry turned his head to Soda, but before he could say anything, Soda covered his mouth with his hand. "You don't need to worry `bout me or Ponyboy." His voice was shaky. He tried to grin, but he only managed a small smile. Darry chuckled and started into another coughing fit, one worse than the one before it. When he stopped, his blue-green eyes were almost empty. With his last breath, Darry whispered, "I love you guys. You're the best brothers anybody could ask for." And then his eyes held no living light, and his body was still.

Darrel Curtis was dead.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and Ponyboy hugged his brother's dead body, head on his shoulder, not caring for the blood covering his shirt. He was sobbing. Sodapop started to cry, too, as he ran his hand through Darry's dark greased hair. He kept muttering his older brother's name.

All three Curtis brothers stayed like that for the rest of the night.

The funeral was simple, nothing extravagant. The whole gang attended, including Johnny. He had to be confined to a wheelchair for life, but at least he was alive. When the gang found out about Darry's death, Steve's hard eyes became more cold and angry. His hatred for Socs became even stronger. Two-Bit hung his head, and tried not to cry. It was the most serious the gang had ever seen him. Dally just ran out of the Curtis house and wasn't found until he called Soda to go and get him from jail. Apparently, he stole some fancy jewelry from a store.

After the funeral, Sodapop immediately got another job on top of his at the gas station. He was very intent on keeping Ponyboy and him together. One way or another, he wasn't going to tear his remaining family apart. He missed Darry a lot, for sure, but he had to keep going forward, not stay in the past.

Ponyboy, on the other hand, took it completely opposite. He started to skip classes, and his grades began to slip down to Ds and Es. Soon after, he dropped out. He began to smoke even more, and he drank even more than Two-Bit did. Soda tried to get him to stop, but he just yelled at his older brother, told him to mind his own business. Most nights he was out, drinking or getting in trouble with the police. He even dwelled into drugs for a little bit. Anything he could get his hands on. When Soda found him in his room one night getting high, he immediately told Steve out of desperation to get his little brother back. The next day, while Sodapop was working, Steve came into Ponyboy's room and dragged him into the living room. After yelling, screaming, and pulling threats, Steve finally got through to Ponyboy. He felt guilty; felt that he let down Darry. After that, Pony stopped doing drugs and drinking. Of course, he smoked a bit, but it was never like when after Darry died. After a few months, Ponyboy decided to go back to school, and eventually go to college. He got a job, supported both him and Sodapop.

He knew it would always be hard, but he learned to live with it.

The best thing he can do is preserve Darry in memory. And so he does.

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so please review!