I am VERY sorry. There is a very long and complicated explanation as to why I haven't posted in so long, and it involves a dramatic tale of dangerous dives, traumatic brain injuries, and massive amounts of writer's block, but that's a story for another time. For now, I have a nice new chapter and the promise of more to come soon as a peace offering. Enjoy!

I needed a shave. I needed a shower. I needed a good night's sleep. I needed a lot of things right now.

I needed Ponyboy.

He'd been gone for over a week now, ever since Darry hit him that night. Darry was a wreck, just going through the motions, but I could tell he wasn't really there. Whenever I caught him alone, sitting in his chair, his leg was bouncing up and down nonstop. He'd just stare blankly at the TV and bounce his leg up and down. I knew he was thinking about Ponyboy, feeling guilty.

At first, we'd waited. That first night Darry, Johnny and I sat in our living room, not talking, just waiting, hoping Pony would cool off and come back soon. He never did. We all fell asleep eventually. The next morning I woke up and ran to our room, hoping to find him there snoring. The empty room that I found instead hurt. Darry went crazy that morning. He was close behind me as I went down the hall, but stormed back as soon as he saw the empty bed. I heard a glass break in the kitchen. I sat down on the bed and waited.

Johnny slid into the bedroom a few minutes later. He looked white and his eyes shifted uneasily as he sat down on the floor across from me.

"He'll come home soon." Johnny said softly.

"I know." I sighed. "Pony probably just needed time to cool off. You know him. He starts thinking about something, worrying about something, and he can't get it out of his head. He probably fell asleep in the lot again."

I wasn't sure I believed what I was saying, but it needed to be said.

Seven days later Ponyboy still hadn't come home. Darry had the whole neighborhood on alert. After three days he'd gone out after work and asked around, wanting to know if anyone had seen Ponyboy. No one had.

"Well, you see him you tell him to come home, got it?"

Everyone got it, but Pony still wasn't home.

When I got home from work on the eighth day, Darry was already home sitting in his chair. He had the phone in his hands, the cord stretched as far as it would go. The dial tone was blaring, but he didn't seem to notice. He looked up as I came in.

"I think we should call the police." He looked pained, like he wasn't really sure.

"The state…" I trailed off. I felt bad for bringing it up. Of course Darry worried about the state, too. Probably even more than I did. What if Pony was just off somewhere nearby blowing off steam? What if we called the police and the state got wind? Wouldn't they just find Pony and cart him off somewhere?

"I know." Darry sighed again and rolled the phone between his hands. But what if something bad had happened? What if Pony wanted to come home, but couldn't? Pictures, awful pictures of Pony lost or hungry or hurt sprang up. My stomach hurt real bad thinking about that.

"You're right. We should call the police."

Knowing where Pony was and knowing that he was safe, even off in some foster home away from us, was better than not knowing anything.

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Darry's leg was bouncing like crazy as we waited in the precinct. The officer at the desk said we should come in, talk to the detective in the Missing Persons unit. Detective Kenneth Baker had three plastic chairs outside his office door. The blinds were pulled down on his office windows, but I could hear muffled voices from inside. Were some other brothers in there right now looking for their lost little brother? Parents, maybe, looking for a child? How many lost kids could there be? Kids. Pony really was just a kid, barely fourteen years old. I felt kind of nauseous.

Finally, the door opened and two uniformed officers stepped out. One caught my eye and nodded. A third man dressed in a suit put his hands in his pockets and sighed, then saw me and Darry.

"Are you the Curtis brothers?" I nodded, and he held out his hand. "I'm Detective Baker. Officer Rolands said you're looking for your younger brother?"

"Yessir," Darry said, shaking Detective Baker's hand, "I'm Darrel Curtis, and this is my brother Sodapop."

Baker shook my hand and cocked an eyebrow at my name, but didn't comment.

"Come on in, boys. Let's see what I can do for you."

Baker led us into his office, and motioned for us to sit down in two plush chairs against the wall. He sat down behind his desk, pulled his jacket off, and got a pad and pen out of his desk drawer.

"So, your brother, what's his name and how old is he?"

"Ponyboy. He's fourteen." I answered quickly. Baker cocked his eyebrow again, but just nodded and scratched on his pad.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Darry flinched, but looked Baker in the eyes.

"Eight days ago." Baker looked up at that.

"And you're only just reporting this now? Does Ponyboy often disappear for over a week?"

"No!" I answered, sitting forward in my chair. Darry held out a hand to silence me and ran the other hand through his hair.

"No sir, he doesn't. We had a fight that night. He was real mad, mostly at me, and he stormed out. We thought he was just cooling off, maybe crashing at a buddy's place, so we didn't want to cause any more trouble."

Baker's eyes narrowed.

"And when he didn't come home after the first few days?"

I wanted to punch him. Didn't he think we'd been worried? I hadn't slept in days, picturing all the things that could be happening to Pony, wishing he'd just come home. And this detective in a suit thought he'd just guilt us a little more? Darry seemed to sense that I was losing my cool and shot me a look that shut me down real quick. What mattered was finding Ponyboy, and if it meant being pushed by some suit…well, as long as he brought Pony home, it would be worth it.

"Detective," Darry began, sounding completely drained, "our parents died in a car wreck a while back, and I've been taking care of my brothers since then. The state has been nosing around from day one, trying to take the boys away, trying to separate us. Something like this, well, it doesn't look good. I didn't want Ponyboy to be taken away from us if this was just a misunderstanding. I should've called earlier. It's just been too long, and he should've been home by now, but-" Darry cut off and lowered his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly. Baker's eyes softened a bit as he wrote, and then he looked up at me like he was expecting something more.

"He's been gone too long, Detective. You need to help us find him."

Does that soothe the burning desire to see how our fair brothers are doing? Comments and criticisms welcome, as always!