………………………….The Verdict

We filed back in the courtroom, having got word that the jury had reached a verdict.

Now colors were too bright and sounds were dull, like I was far down in some tin tunnel. I couldn't catch my breath.

Johnny was breathing in short gasps. He was pale. We watched the jury walk into the courtroom, take their familiar places.

The judge read the charges. Murder in the first degree. I held my breath, this was the charge that carried the death penalty.

The jury foreman spoke, and I don't know why I was surprised that he looked old and solidly middle class.

"We find the defendant not guilty,"

The second charge was read, manslaughter by provocation.

"We find the defendant guilty as charged,"

Johnny still stood but held onto the table. I felt everyone's eyes on the back of my neck.

"So say you, so say you all?" The judge said.

"Yes,"

…………………..Watering Hole

I was at the twilight bar, a drink twinkling in front of me. I kept thinking of how they lead Johnny away in handcuffs, the way he looked at me over his shoulder.

"What're ya drinking?" Dallas set his beer down on my table, hooked his leg over the chair.

"Just soda,"

I looked at Dallas, his hair blond as a child's, the light blue eyes. I remembered there was a time I feared him. Now I didn't fear anything.

He put a hand on my arm and I looked at him, wished there was rum in my coke.

"Listen, man, thanks. Thanks for all you did for Ponyboy and Johnny…"

I licked my lips. What did I do? The state of Oklahoma wouldn't kill Johnny, that was true. But tomorrow he'd be sentenced to something. He was still in jail.

I shrugged, felt a twinge of pain where the bullet had struck.

"No, listen," Dallas said, and I looked at him, overwhelmed by the power and presence he commanded at 17, "you did a lot for those kids. I know that. You should be proud of that," He lifted the beer to his lips and swallowed. Of all the things I felt I wasn't sure proud was one of them.

"Sure, you're welcome," I said, desperately scanning the back of the bar for the bottle that could make me feel better. Bombay Sapphire Gin, the bottle as light blue as Dallas' eyes. Sweet Vermouth in the sinister dark green bottle, the rich yellows and golds of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, Skull's Red Eye. I sighed. Just soda for me.

"Mr. Williams, Johnny'll be okay," I turned from the rows of bottles back to Dallas, and saw that he was only 17 after all. What could he know?

…………………..The Sentence

Johnny trembled as he stood beside me, the suit I bought him ill fitting. I was sorry I couldn't take him to Boston with me, sorry he was still a prisoner here. Sorry I'd ever took him and Ponyboy from Windrixville.

"Johnny," the judge said, and the use of the familiar name was not lost on either of us. The judge was old, white haired, thick jowled, faded little blue eyes peering down at us.

"I sentence you to no less than five years in the juvenile detention center,"

They lead him away. He'd go back to the jail and from there he'd be brought to the detention center.

I walked out, the feeling of failure laying on me like a second skin. I shrugged off thanks because it wasn't deserved.

I bought a plane ticket for Boston. Left the very next night.

…………………….Epilogue

……………………….Boston, 1971

I was in my office and the weather was just turning from winter to spring. I looked up from my piles of papers out at the blue sky, felt the relief that comes every year with spring.

"Mr. Williams?" My secretary, young thin thing named Sally, blond hair contrasting with her dark eyebrows.

"Yes?"

"There's some people here to see you,"

"Sally, you know it's too late for appointments,"

"I know, I know. But they say they know you. Knew you, I mean. In Oklahoma,"

I felt cold, a funny coldness spreading by nerve endings everywhere.

"Okay, then. Sure. Send them in,"

And they came in. Unmistakably Ponyboy and Johnny, and I quickly did the math. Ponyboy was 19, Johnny, 21.

Their hair was long, as was the fashion, but free of grease. Ponyboy sported a mustache that was redder than his hair, and Johnny's hair curled at the ends and touched his collar. They both wore faded bell bottoms, denim coats with fur trim.

"Hi, Mr. Willims," Ponyboy, his voice deeper now, a man's voice.

"Hi," Johnny mumbled, and he sounded more or less the same.

"Hi, uh, sit, please," I gestured toward the chairs and they sat, "you two want anything? Soda, coffee…?" I was ready to call Sally back but they shook their heads.

"No, it's okay. We're fine," Ponyboy said for both of them.

"Well, what are you doing in Boston?"

"Checking out colleges," Ponyboy said, smiling, "I brought Johnny because he knew you were in Boston. He wanted to find you,"

I looked at Johnny. Still quiet, still young looking. He looked maybe 16 or 17 now, not 21. Ponyboy, taller and bigger, looked years older. And he still looked wounded, suspicious, wary. I wondered what had happened to him at the juvenile detention center.

"How are you?" I said to Johnny, looking at him look down at the floor.

"Good," he said, glancing up at me.

"Yeah, good now that he's out of juvy," Ponyboy said, laughing, playfully shoving Johnny. Johnny smiled.

"Yeah, that's good,"

I felt a bit of the sharp guilt abate. Johnny was still alive, after all, and whatever might have happened to him at the juvenile detention center, he was free now.

"It was good to see you," Ponyboy said, rising to go. Young men, they had bars to go to, chicks to pick up. I stood, too. He offered me his hand and I shook it.

"Bye," Johnny said softly, and I wanted to grab him, hug him, but I was afraid. He held out his hand to me and I shook it, placing my other hand on top of both of ours. I almost felt like I was going to cry.

"Bye. Take care," I said. They nodded as they headed for the door. Ponyboy went ahead. At the doorway Johnny turned back and looked me straight in the eyes, something I could recall him doing only once before.

"Mr. Williams?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for everything. I mean it. I never got to tell you, that's why I had Pony bring me with him. Thanks for everything,"

The guilt dissolved, and after five years of blame I forgave myself. I had tried my best with that trial, and as Clyde had said, it's all anybody could ask.

"You're welcome, Johnny,"

He smiled, showing his teeth. Waved and followed Ponyboy out the door. I waved to the empty room and swallowed over the lump in my throat, felt tears in the corners of my eyes.

x...x...x

x...X...x

x...x...x

Author's Note: Thank you guys so much for all the reviews, all the wonderful feedback. I hope you enjoyed this story…please tell me what you think now that it is finished.

Love always,

gloryblastit