A/N: Hello Readers, it's Just That Girl here. (I really want to change my name, but people wouldn't know who I am and all...so...) Yeah, well, I entered a prequel that I did for school and had some good feedback. I think I'm going to delete that one and add the edited version. So be warned. Anyway, this is the alternate ending I did for school. I hope you like it. Review. (:

Warning: It made me cry while I was writing it, so be prepared if you care deeply about the characters as much as I do.

Alternate Ending:

Johnny was dying. It was a fact now; known to all of us, but feared and scarcely talked about. It caused me severe pain just to mention it, but I had to come to terms. We all did.

The rest of the Greasers left the lot after the Soc's fled. It was just the gang and I. Dally left without explanation though, and we had a feeling we didn't want to know where he went.

We were just slowly walking towards my house; it took all my power not to pass out in the middle of the street. None of us said anything.

When Two-bit opened the screen door and helped Soda in; Darry, Steve, and I filed in after.

"Want a beer?" Darry asked to no one in particular. The others murmured their yes's or nah's, but I stayed quiet.

They were all lazing around poking at their new bruises. Oh, how tuff they looked. But I couldn't enjoy my new battle scars; all I could think about was Johnny. I bit my lip but my hanging thought came out nonetheless.

"Johnny's gonna die." It sounded grave and one hundred percent true. It frightened me.

They were all staring at me with mixed expressions. Two-bit, who was sitting on the couch sipping his beer and puffing his Kool's next to Steve, seemed infuriated.

"Ponyboy, are you buggin'? He'll make it. He's tough. Don't tell lies like that or I'll beat the tar out of ya…" He went on and on with some awful, demeaning words that I won't mention and the others just sat. They didn't tell Two-bit to swallow his tongue or shut his trap, they just sat; each one of them grim and pained.

Two-bit still went on, fussing at me but most likely reassuring himself.

Darry slammed his fist onto the countertop. His beer shook and all eyes were on him, however far off and distant they may have been. "Pony's right, as much as I hate to admit it." Silence.

"Johnny Cade is dyin' and there's nothing we can do about it."

Sometimes I had to admire Darry's strong will. It came in handy for situations like this, and for dealing with Soda and I after our parents died. That took one tough guy; I couldn't imagine anyone other than Darry for the job.

After hours of quiet, Steve left first, patting Soda on the back and whispering "See you tomorrow…" It trailed off. That was the first time I realized Steve cared for anyone other than girls and my brother. Steve Randle was crying. I'd never seen him cry. He wasn't always tough, but he never cried.

Even if I didn't like to admit it, he was a brother, a buddy, and I hated to see him in such a state.

"I'm sorry," I told Steve quickly; looking away towards Soda and my room, soon regretting the words. Soda and Steve looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"I know, buddy." Steve replied before Soda. He held my shoulder, gazing at me with sympathetic eyes. Soda stood there open-mouthed.

Other than beating up the guys who jumped me several times over the years, Steve actually was treating me like a member of the group. I quickly glanced over at Soda; he was smiling. A sort of smug smile that he usually gave when he'd pulled a prank on the Soc's or something.

Steve left after hollering a quick goodbye, and that was the last sound heard for the next ten minutes.

"Hey Two-bit, Mickey's on." Soda said, pointing to the television and laughing for the first time in hours. He sat on the floor with a piece of chocolate cake and a beer. I plopped down on the couch next to him. Boy was I tired. A little too tired…

"Two-bit, ya hear me?" Soda yelled again. Two-bit came storming out of the kitchen; Darry shuffling a deck of cards and sipping the last drops of his third beer.

Two-bit's eyes glazed over; frustration and anger building. If there was one thing Two-bit couldn't stand it was tears. He knew he couldn't fix this situation with jokes or gags and that bothered him more than anything in the world. "Yeah, I know." His voice was stern; I would have been afraid if I wasn't already scared stiff.

Soda seemed surprised and mumbled something incoherently. Darry looked over—he did that once in a while. Mainly he just kept to himself, though.

Two-bit paced through the kitchen and grabbed his fifth beer. "I'm gonna go find some trouble; I don't want to remember this in the morning."

Darry, Soda, and I glanced at each other. You could say it was some kind of brother ESP, but we were all thinking the same thing. But who was going to say it first?

"Two-bit…please, just don't do anything too wild or crazy tonight, alright? Worrying about you all night long is the last thing we need to deal with."

Of course Darry was the one. He was the only one who could actually make Two-bit listen, and listen good.

Two-bit nodded in recognition, still staring at no one. He turned towards the door but kept his hand on the doorknob for a minute. We were all quiet.

"Yeah." He told us. Then he left.

***

I was starting to get really tired. Unnaturally tired, you might say. Sure Soda and Darry complained of no sleep and of sore muscles, but that's comparing one tree to the entire forest. My eyes were going to close any second and my muscles felt like they were going to fall out of place, but I had to be with my brothers. I couldn't go to sleep. Something far in my mind told me that, so I believed it.

"Soda," I began, yawning. "What are we going to do?" He signaled to me from across the room as if he couldn't hear. How couldn't he hear? I was speaking in our normal, around the house, loud voice…right?

"What…what are we going to…do?" I yawned quite a few times, my voice cracking a bit. My weight shifted uneasily; my brain twirling around in my head like a tornado. My sentence sounded reasonable in my head. It was a question I had stored in there for a long time; why was it deciding to come out now?

"Whoa—Oh lordy, Pony. Pony!" I heard Soda dash from the table toward me, and Darry's roaring shout from the other room. He was there in a second. Side by side, my two brothers were there.

"Cool." For some strange reason, that came out before I could help it. If I could control myself I would have laughed. The last image I saw before my vision blurred and grew closer and closer to Soda's knees, were my two brother's faces. Panicked and frightened, but there nonetheless.

***

I woke up with bright lights in my face. A great wakeup call for a sick kid, that's for sure. Whoa, was I really sick? I thought back anxiously. Sick enough to be in a hospital? Surely not. Now Johnny, Johnny was sick. The last time I saw him—Johnny. Oh god, Johnny.

"Johnny!" I whined out loud, unaware of the watchful eyes.

"Shh," Soda hushed me, pushing hair out of my face. He seemed tired. Why didn't he ever sleep? He really needed to. "He's in the next room. You need to take it easy. Darry's over in Johnny's room right now. Boy, he's going to be mighty angry to find out the one time he left your side was when you woke up." Soda chuckled; amusing himself as always. And also as always, cheering me up too. "Ah, that's alright." I assured. "Johnny needs everyone he can get. I'm fine. I don't really need this attention, anyway. I can't be that sick." My voice answered my own assessment.

I really was sick. What was wrong with me?

"Soda, what's wrong?" He knew what I meant, and his dazzling grin fell. His eyes lost sparkle and the room went quiet.

"Well, you're sick little buddy. Not as bad as Johnny, but you had a concussion you see…" He trailed off, sniffing the air. "It's a good thing you weren't out runnin' after the rumble. Otherwise you'd be in a lot worse, Ponyboy."

I was about to say something more but I soon forgot. Darry walked through the door with a newspaper, round purple circles under his eyes. Why didn't they ever sleep? They needed it.

"Ah, golly, Soda! Why didn't you tell me he was up?" He rushed over to my other side. My two favorite people in the world looked worriedly over me. Darry put his hands up to my head and passed over some wires and machines. He seemed clueless of the setup but was determined to do something.

"I'm fine, Darry." He stopped and looked me in the eye, waiting for a true answer. "Way better than Johnny. How is he by the way?"

The two of them shared a dark look, inhaling and exhaling long. Soda swallowed. "Well, Pony, he aint lookin' too hot. He's still—"

"He's still dying Pony." Leave it up to Darry to give it to me straight.

I didn't look at either one of them. I intently watched my feet covered up in blue and white blankets. Darry started saying something, but Two-bit and Steve came tumbling in.

"Nah, Steve you got it all wrong—"

They were laughing. Not full blown Two-bit laughter because we all knew under the circumstance that wasn't possible. But enough of what we needed to stay somewhat sane.

"Pony!" The two of them cried out, sauntering to my side quickly. Two-bit came in for a hug but tugged on a wire. I winced automatically. "Ouch!" I called.

"Two-bit," Darry's teeth were grinding and that tone was only matched when he was truly angry. Like he was at me when I didn't finish my homework or brush my teeth.

"Sorry, kid." Two-bit answered apologetically; patting my arm instead. Apparently to Darry, that was allowable.

They all sat around me, staring at my obviously revolting scarred face and the millions of machines around me. It wasn't such a large room, and it definitely didn't feel so huge with all of them surrounding me like that. It was kind of unnerving.

"So, what's the word on the street?" Well, that got them talking. All sorts of answers about the Soc's, chicks, and the latest hangouts blurted out. I couldn't keep track of time, but it seemed a good half hour or so later when the nurse came running in.

"Ponyboy!" She said urgently, somewhat breathless. "Johnny's made a request to see you. Do you mind if we stroll you in?"

The others met her gaze and then mine. "No, not at all."

I wanted to see Johnny as badly as I wanted to see the sunset. It was killing me not to see him in that room with the others.

The gang tried to follow in, but the nurse told them to lag behind. It was only Johnny and I.

When she wheeled my bed over to Johnny's room, it was dark and vacant. My hands felt clammy and nervous. Why would I be nervous talking to Johnny? He was my best buddy.

"Hey Johnny," I said, my lip quivering ever so slightly. He couldn't tell however; his eyes were barely open. You could only make out a flash of a dark eye from the two slits.

"Ponyboy!" He greeted happily, although it didn't sound like him. It didn't sound like him at all. It sounded like a very sick old man. My eyes were tearing up by then. Seeing him in so much pain; never to see me with his full brown-black eyes…

"Don't cry," He croaked, coughing painfully. That seemed to make his chest move heavily. He started wheezing.

"What's wrong? Johnny what's happening?" I started to panic, wanting to reach out and grab him but instantly stopping myself. There was nothing I could do.

He reached out from his own bedside; his arms were thin and bony, and caught my hand in his. From the way he moved so slowly, it must have taken him a lot of strength just to move that one hand.

"Ponyboy," He coughed again. He murmured very slowly. "I called you in here to tell you goodbye." I couldn't handle this. I was letting the tears flow now; there was no reason not to. He wasn't going to live, he was never going to watch the sunshine or set with me, he was never going to live a full life with the ones he loved; the gang. Me.

"Ponyboy, I dig the way you love sunsets. It's a great way to be. I wish I didn't have to leave this way. If it was up to me I would have rather died fighting—gallant. Like Dally." He wheezed again; making my tears flow even harder.

I clenched his hand tighter to make sure he was still there.

He stared at me through his dark slits and grinned to the best of his ability.

"I wish he would look at one. Will you tell him for me? Will you tell him to watch one? Tell him there's a lot of good in the world. He's just never really been shown. Tell him please, Ponyboy?"

I nodded. "But you can tell him yourself…" My voice caught when he inhaled slowly through a tube. I was lying; he knew it, I knew it. Somehow though, it made the air lighter.

"No, Ponyboy. You know that's not true. Tell him for me, buddy to buddy. Show him the sunsets. Show all of the gang. Show them what it's like; 'cause it sure is wonderful." He gasped, his head gently rolling to its side. I thought that was it; that he was gone forever, but his eyes opened just an inch.

"Pony, buddy, I sure will miss you. Just remember…stay gold."

And that was it.

***

Dally was there that day. He was there when Johnny told me about the sunsets. His last request. He was there in the doorway and didn't do anything. He just watched with tears in his eyes and a blade in his hand.

For a second he just stood there holding the knife; I thought he was going to do something drastic, and I just couldn't take it.

All he said was: "I will look at one, Johnny Cade." and tore out the door like a bat out of hell.

We hadn't seen him since, and it's been over four weeks. Four weeks from Johnny's death and Dally's disappearance, five weeks from running away and hiding out, six weeks from killing Bob and getting slapped by Darry. One month since it all began.

My eyes fogged over as I gazed down at the small booth. It was the day of the trial. Darry, Soda and I were a nervous wreck. Two-bit and Steve were in the back, cheering us on with some casual wacky glances—from Two-bit anyway.

I told them all about, well, anything and everything that happened over the few restless weeks, and Soda, Cherry, and Randy did the same. Darry told them that, and how well he'd been handling Soda and I.

Soda put his arm over my shoulder as we watched Darry get hammered with question after question without breaking a sweat. I almost cried when it was my turn; I truthfully almost did. I had to recall the most painful moment of my life, and I didn't want to ever speak it out loud again. But when I thought back, Johnny was right. He had come to terms with him not being on earth anymore; he'd been tough the whole way through. He was right; I had to come to terms too, with a tough front.

The trial lasted a good hour or so, going through every detail inch by inch, as excruciating as a nail through a foot. Once in a while, however, you could hear from the back: "What is wrong with that buggin' judge?" and I perked up a bit.

It was mid-afternoon when the jury came through with their decision. Soda, Darry and I were holding each other close; never letting go.

"Defendant not guilty." The judge slammed the desk—the happiest noise I'd heard in a long time—and left the room. Two-bit and Steve came up to us in a hurry, knocking our heads against each other and starting to joke around.

Soda, Darry and I still held each other, looking back over everything. We had each other now and we could do anything. We didn't let go, but we loosened and gazed around at what was left of the gang.

I made a silent prayer to Johnny. We'd made him proud, I was sure. We were together again, with the exception of Dally. We figured ole Dal would make his way back eventually. After some mischief and drinking he'd be back. We were all he had left. He's lookin' at sunsets, Johnny. I told him in my head. We all are, and always will. I took one last glance at our cheery and somewhat tear-stained cheeks and stifled a sob. We were all golden.