Last chapter. Cursing and violence involved. Of course.

Please review. Pardon typos.

XXXXXX

Another tricky little gun giving solace to the one
That will never see the sunshine
Another inch of your life sacrificed for your brother
In the nick of time

-Jack White and Alicia Keyes

XXXXXX

1:29 pm

October 1, 1967

They're both in custody. Stan's in his father's, Hannah Ezra's in mine.

She sits at the table in Interrogation Room B, a frail and fragile thing. Long brown hair drips down her face. Hannah picks at her nails until they bleed. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she murmurs. "I just thought I owed it to Roger."

I frown at her from across the room. "How? By letting him kidnap your son?" Benji paces behind her.

She buries her face in her hands, muffling her words. "It was just to get Don to pay him ransom. He needed the money. He was gonna give him back." My stomach twists. Hannah says this like Stan's an animal he was borrowing or something he can return to the store.

When she looks up her eyes are wild. "Don owed it to him. I love my brother; he took care of me. I couldn't just…forget him."

"Hannah, he didn't exactly turn into a model citizen," Benji says.

Twenty years ago, Don Ezra put a man named Roger Chopinski behind bars for attempted murder. When he did this he was engaged to a Hannah Chopinski. Hannah stood by Don. But she also stood by Roger. Hannah had a crazy definition of loyalty.

"He was going to let Stan go."

"You believe that?" Benji raises an eyebrow.

"I do."

"What about Ponyboy Curtis?" I ask. "You didn't feel the need to come forward after Roger kidnapped him?"

She swallows. "I didn't want to get in trouble."

I sigh. "Believe me, you're in worse trouble now than you would have been had you said something."

She drums her nails on the table and whispers, "I didn't think he'd try to kill the boy. But he got away." She winces. "Roger couldn't stand that. Then you and Stan started poking around…Stan's smart…I didn't want him to find out that I—" Her voice cracks.

"You wanted Roger gone." She nods. I walk the room and sit down across from her. "Hannah. Where is he?"

Blonde's still in town. Twenty minutes after Stan had given me his statement Benji had walked into my office with a dazed expression. He told me that Ponyboy Curtis had found the Chevy sitting in his driveway, a note sitting inside.

She begins to cry. "I wanted them both. Don and Roger. But now I don't have anyone." I'm not kind enough to tell her she's wrong.

"Hannah," I say, impatient, "Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Hannah sniffs but has stopped crying. A long trail of snot drips from her nose.

"He'd give you up," Benji tells her. "In an instant."

I place a pack of cigarettes on the table, sliding them on the smooth tin surface. "It could help you with your sentencing." I don't care if it does or doesn't. I just want Roger's location and I'll get it any way I can.

There's a long pause as she thinks. She manages to wipe the snot on her sleeve and she brushes a piece of lank hair from her eyes. "He's staying in an apartment downtown. Motel Capri, third floor. Room 306."

XXXXXX

4:10 pm

October 1, 1967

Two-Bit and Ponyboy are on the porch when Steve and I pull up to the house. Two-Bit waves at us and takes a sip of beer. I look at the driveway where the Chevy had sat; Darry's truck fills its space.

I had gotten the call at the DX four hours ago from Darry with the news of the Chevy's reappearance and Blonde's identity. I had my coat half-on, Steve's keys in my hands when my boss told that if we left, we could leave the job too.

"Finally flew the coop?" Two-Bit hoots as we climb out of Steve's truck.

Steve flips him off. "Some of us got jobs, Two-Bit."

I cross the yard quickly and climb the porch steps. Ponyboy's leaning against the railing. "Hey kiddo."

"Hey Sodapop." His face is gray but his eyes are bright. "I take it you heard the news?"

"Yeah, I heard the good and the bad. You ok?" I reach out and touch his arm, giving it a squeeze. He nods, his eyes flickering to the screen door. I follow his gaze. Through the netted screen I can see Darry on the phone.

"They might have found him," Pony offers what Darry has already told me. His voice is uncertain. "Blonde – Roger – whoever."

"Cops decided to start working for once?" Steve snorts. "Coffee and donuts don't hold their attention anymore?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Wow, Stevie, you really hold a grudge don't you?"

Ponyboy says, "Stan's mom told the cops where he was hiding out. Everyone's a rat." He gives a mirthless laugh, folding his arms across his chest.

"Hey wait," Two-Bit drawls, "you missed the most important part of the story: how I saved the day." A bit of life flickers into Two-Bit. He takes a long gulp from his beer and burps. "You really shoulda seen it."

"Yeah, you really should have," Ponyboy echoes. He gives Two-Bit a sideways smile and bats Two-Bit's arm away before it can ruffle his hair.

"It was something to make James Bond jealous," Two-Bit narrates. "A stolen car in the driveway, the kid listening for once," He points at Pony who scowls. "…And me, Two-Bit Mathews perfecting my spy moves." Two-Bit's arm comes down in a karate chop and he ducks and bobs around Steve.

"What do you want a medal?" Steve snaps. "Because you're embarrassing the shit out of me with those moves."

"No," Two-Bit says, still dancing around Steve. "Just constant admiration."

Darry props the screen door open. He looks at me and then Ponyboy. "I'm picking you up from school tomorrow at three. They want you to verify the photograph in person and give a statement." Ponyboy nods.

Darry asks, "Soda, can you meet us there?"

"Sure, Darry. Not a problem," I say at the exact same time as Steve snorts, "Good luck getting our prick of a boss to let you go."

Darry's pale. He swallows, looking like he wants to say something else.

Ponyboy notices too. "Out with it Dar," I say.

"Pony…" Darry begins, coming out onto the porch. Ponyboy braces himself for whatever's coming. He moves closer to me, one hand on the railing.

"Stan's mom got two years in prison."

XXXXXX

3:01 pm

October 2, 1967

I pull out of the school parking lot. I take a right and begin the drive downtown. The road leading out of the school follows the edge of Lake Elmo's woods. Ponyboy watches them from his window. The brown woods combined with the gray afternoon create a dreary combination.

"How's Stan doing?" I ask.

Pony looks at me as if I'm an idiot. "He wasn't in school."

"Jessup said he was with his dad," I offer. "You'll see him today."

"He's gonna hate me," Ponyboy says with a sigh. "I would."

I sneak a sideways look at his resigned face. "He won't. Even if he does it's not your fault."

He shakes his head. "I can't believe she got two years."

"What about you?" I ask, frowning. "You got a lot worse than that."

Ponyboy grins. "So do you. You have to put up with me."

Amused, I give him a smile. "You ain't that bad. At least you don't dance around like an orangutan like Two-Bit. And you pick up your shoes unlike another brother I won't mention."

Ponyboy laughs and reaches forward to fiddle with the radio. He bypasses the Beatles, Elvis Presley, finally settling on a Bob Dylan song. Dylan's mellow voice fills the truck.

Pony's eyes keep darting to the mirror on his passenger side. Suddenly, he's squirming around in his seat. Unsnapping his seat belt, Pony gets up on his knees, twisting around to look out the back window. He leans forward, squinting.

"What're you doing?" I ask.

"Just…seeing…something…" he mumbles.

I hit a patch of ice and the truck swerves. Ponyboy rocks in his crouched position, grabbing onto the back of the seat for support.

"Hey," I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. "Sit down. Put your seatbelt back on. It's slick out."

"Darry," he says, "the car behind us is coming up awfully fast."

I check my rearview mirror. He's right. The car is almost on the tail end of my truck. Speeding up, I put my turn signal on and move into the right lane, thinking the driver wants to pass me. The car follows me.

Intuition flips my stomach over. My hands clench the steering wheel. "Pony," I say, seeing what's coming. "Buckle up now."

He twists half-way around to stare at me. He looks ill. "Darry, you don't think that's—"

The incoming hit is a punch to the ribs. The truck shakes and Ponyboy goes flying back against the dash.

Reflexes kicking in, my arm darts out to catch my brother by his forearm. I wince as Pony's skull hits the dash with a sickening crack. "Pone!" The truck swerves again as I try to keep my grip on my brother and on the steering wheel.

I pull him back into the seat. "God damn it. You okay? Kiddo?" He nods without speaking and rests his forehead in his palm.

Another jolt hits us. Ponyboy braces himself against the window. The truck swerves onto the shoulder of the road but I steady it pulling it back into the lane. "Crazy bastard!" I punch my horn and the brake, speeding up to 70 miles per hour.

Pony's voice is low in my ear. "Darry, it's Blonde."

Grim, I say, "I know." I grit my teeth, trying to concentrate on getting us out of this mess. I fly around a curve, the woods of Lake Elmo blurring into a green and brown haze.

The car advances again, this time hitting its mark. Its front bumper hits my truck's back wheels with a crunching noise. "Oh shit!" Ponyboy hollers. There's a sound of burning rubber as my truck zig-zags across the road.

I glance over at my wide-eyed brother. His face is white. "Hold on, kiddo!" I twist the wheel, straining against its resistance but it's useless. It's out of control. The truck veers off the road and onto the shoulder. Gravel and sparks fly up around us as we plummet down into the ditch.

A tree rests at the bottom of the ditch and I know where the nose of the truck is going to make its final resting place. My stomach flips, both my brother's faces flashing before me. Then, the last thing I see is Ponyboy squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for impact. Glass shatters, there's a loud popping noise and it goes dark.

XXXXXX

3:11 pm

October 2, 1967

It's quiet. The kind of quiet you only hear in hospitals and when people are trying to keep secrets. Whispered and avoidant.

Something wet is dripping down my face. I blink and when I open my eyes its dim. I can make out the remnants of Darry's truck through the choking smoke. There's glass in my lashes; I can feel the tiny shattered pieces hitting my eyelids. I brush a hand down my face, wiping away the wetness and the glass.

I'm on the floor of the truck, wedged up against the door and the caved in dash. It takes me a few minutes but I finally manage to pull myself into a sitting position. I touch the back of my head. My hand comes back bloody.

The world sways, the planets align and I struggle to control my grip on consciousness.

From my skewed position on the floor, I can tell that truck's on a severe decline. My brain makes an effort to remember what has happened…

The driver. I remember Darry and go numb. Afraid, I put a hand out and pull myself up on the front seat. A large tree dissects the front of the truck. The windshield is splintered. Darry's truck is totaled.

I kneel next to my brother. His eyes are shut, head tilted back against the head rest. He has a cut above his right eyebrow.

I lean across him and with a shaky hand rest two fingers against his throat. I wait. It's the longest wait of my life.

I laugh with relief, veering on the edge of manic. Darry's beat is strong, pumping away. He's breathing.

"Darry." My voice is loud in the quiet. I shake his shoulder. "Darry. Wake up."

Above us, on the road, a car door slams. "Darry. Come on!" I urge. "We have to get outta here." I shake him again but it's useless. He's out like a light.

I debate staying but know we won't have a chance if we're cornered. I try and shove the door open but it sticks. I unroll the window, using one hand to push it down faster. Climbing out, I fall to my knees, choking on the exhaust.

I scramble up and wait for Blonde's footsteps to get closer. When they do I take off into a woozy run, crashing through the trees and leaves with louder than necessary force. Hear me, Blonde, I think. Hear me and leave Darry alone.

XXXXX

3:35 pm

October 2, 1967

Branches and twigs scratch me as I run through the woods of Lake Elmo. The leaves crunch beneath my shoes. Breathless, I stop mid-run, listening. I'm right back where I started. Except this time I know who's after me. I take a gulp of air and am off again.

It's a surprise when it happens. Halfway down into the ravine, Blonde clotheslines me. His arm comes straight out, catching me in the chest and knocking me over. I'm still dizzy from the car accident and lay there blinking at the sky.

"Thought you could hide?" Blonde sneers, standing above me, his mangled face eager twisted into a grin. Hate not fear surges through my body. I remember his eyes all too well.

He's about to fall on me when I kick him in the stomach with my foot. Hard. He stumbles backward, gasping for air. I roll away from him and am on my feet, keeping my body loose and ready to move.

"Who's hiding, asshole? From what I remember you're the one hiding from the fuzz, Roger."

Blonde's eyes cloud. "You're still a fuckin' smartass." He's lightening fast. Piercing pain rips through my shoulder and side as he strikes me. I go down on one knee, cringing. I take a lesson from Travis Jensen and whip around, elbowing Blonde in the nose. There's a crunching sound of bone and I smile as Blonde begins screaming.

I watch him a moment and then begin to run. My knee gives me no pain and I fall into the easy rhythm of what I love to do. Wind whips my face; I dodge a tree branch, splash through a small stream and duck behind a large rock.

I'm not stupid. Blonde has more than fists up his sleeve. Those, I can work with. Blades or a heater I ain't ready for.

Shielded by the rock and the tall pine trees, I peer out to see Blonde shuffling through the wooded forest. His nose is smashed in. Again. That's definitely not going to earn me any points.

"Oh Ponyboy…" he taunts. "Come out, come out, wherever you are…"

I remain silent, still, pressing a hand to my mouth just in case. I just need to make it back up to the road. I glance behind me, wondering whether or not to take off again.

There's another crashing through the woods and I freeze. Wide-eyed, I turn back to see Blonde drop back between two trees. He chuckles.

"Ponyboy!" Darry yells. It's a desperate-kind of yell, the kind that, in normal situations, would make me obey. This however, doesn't qualify as normal.

Leaves crunch, twigs snap. "Pony, where are you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. Blonde's hovering opposite me, unaware of my location. But I see his smile. He's waiting for me to give myself away so he can have a go at one of us.

Damned if I'm going to put my brother in this position.

I stay silent, waiting. I kneel in the familiar crouching position I use on the track. My fingers brush the ground, my knees ready to launch me up.

"Pone?" Darry's voice keeps getting closer. "Kiddo?" he hollers. Finally I have my brother in my sights. He crosses between the trees, limping slightly. The cut above his eyebrow has dried to a fine trail of blood. He cups his hands around his mouth. "Ponyboy Curtis!"

Go away, Darry. Just go away.

Darry begins to retreat, his yells getting fainter. I drop my head and breathe, thankful he's okay. A few minutes pass.

Roger begins to whisper, "I'm gonna git ya. You can't hide." I cock my head, thinking I'm imagining his voice getting closer. When I look up again he's not between the trees.

A branch cracks at my back.

I explode off the ground, ripping through the trees and stumbling over logs. "Shit!" I fall, eating a mouthful of dirt. I'm nearly up again and running but before I have a good start Roger pummels into me.

We slam the earth, rolling and twisting on the ground. He punches me in the face. My head snaps back and I see black. Blonde jumps up and kicks me in the side, the stomach. I pull myself into a fetal position trying to shield what I can.

My foot lashes out aiming for Blonde's left knee. It's my mistake, I'm too slow; I don't hit the kneecap but graze the side of his thigh. Blonde's mangled features twist into a grin.

"Nice try."

"Nice face."

I'm on my back and Blonde's suddenly on top of me. Panic crosses me as I remember my last night in the cabin. Blonde's hands around my throat. But that was another time and the panic disintegrates into stubbornness. I'm not going out like this.

I hear the flick of a blade. "Ready for this?"

I twist my hips trying to get out from under him. Managing to wriggle out some, I come up swinging; my fist hits Roger across the jaw. The blade flies out of his hand, landing five feet away.

I barely manage "Darry!" before something hard and heavy hits the side of my head. There's a metallic clanging noise in my ears and I go down like an anchor, into the cushion of leaves. Warmth begins to spread around me. Disoriented, I can only lie there.

Blonde stands up, tossing the rock over his left shoulder. It hits the ground with a thud, lying among leaves and other rubble. Blonde scoops up the knife and gives me a knowing grin.

All of a sudden, Darry barrels through the trees. He rushes Blonde, clubbing him across the face with his fist. Darry drops Blonde like he's a bag of lumber. Pulling Blonde back up, Darry delivers a crushing blow to Blonde's ribs.

"Where's my brother?"

Blonde can't answer, choking on his blood-filled mouth. The air fills with the sound of approaching sirens.

"Where the hell is Ponyboy?" Darry yells. Kneeling down, Darry grips Blonde's shirt, jerking him up to face him. Darry hits him in the throat and Blonde starts to gag. "Don't make me kill you."

I roll onto my side, trying to push myself up. "Darry, over here…"

Darry's head snaps over to meet my eyes. He leaves Blonde, rushing over.

"Ponyboy…" Crouching down, Darry's hands hover above me, unsure as to what to touch first. Seeing the blood, he touches my hand. "What's this from?"

"Darry," I tell him as he helps me sit up. "Blonde has a blade."

Surprised, Darry glances up, eyeing Blonde who's twisting on the ground, still coughing and moaning. He hesitates. "Pony, the blood—"

"My head met a rock."

Darry reaches around, dipping a hand to touch the back of my head. He draws it out and it's black. Darry looks at it and then at me. "Don't go to sleep."

He begins taking off his jacket when I notice Blonde's quiet. In fact, Blonde's coming toward us, knife held beside him. I hear shouts somewhere higher in the woods and know Blonde's getting desperate. The cops are close.

"Darry!"

Darry can't move fast because he's caught twisted up in his jacket. "Shit," he swears, straightening up. I stumble up beside him and Darry sticks an arm out, shielding me.

Blonde laughs. "Aw, ain't this sweet." He lunges forward.

Darry tries to move me out of the way but Blonde darts the opposite direction, arcing a fist toward Darry's jaw. It's a dull blow but Darry stumbles back, his feet catching on a large log, leaving me to face Blonde.

The blade slices through the air and before I can jump back it cuts the front of my shirt, piercing through the skin. Blonde drags a cut starting at my breast bone and slicing clear down to my navel. A searing, stinging pain hits my chest. Blood begins to bead the surface of my shirt.

Stunned, I look at Blonde, my hands gripping my stomach. I sink to my knees, saying the first words that come to mind: "You asshole."

Blonde grins and raises the knife. As the blade flashes down once more, Darry comes up swinging a tree log as large as a 2x4. "I warned you once," Darry says. The log clocks Blonde in the face, propelling him backwards.

A strange sense of déjà vu fills me. Before I see it, I know what will happen. Darry and I watch as Blonde falls toward the ground, his skull cracking the rock he had used on me and then tossed away. He's quiet; his unblinking eyes staring at the sky.

Wincing, I turn away.

"Ponyboy, Ponyboy…" Darry's next to me, gathering me up, hugging me to his chest. His heart pumps with a vengeance, his strong arms tightening like a vice. "Thank God, you're all right. Thank God…"

XXXXXX

4:32 pm

October 2, 1967

Darry's talking to Jessup and another detective while I'm relegated to sitting in the back of an ambulance; its doors thrown wide open in the dimming sun. Darry and the cops are gathered in a small circle on the road, talking in hushed tones. I can't hear them fully but do catch the words "self-defense" and "open and shut". Darry's eyes keep flickering to me and I hope this doesn't end with my brother being pushed into the back of a cop car.

The daze of the day begins to sink in. I watch Darry, calm and polite, tell his story. I've already given my statement; right before Blonde was loaded up in body bag and right after Darry finished yelling at me not to take a nap.

Darry points at the busted truck in the ditch. The officers nod.

Darry killed a man for me. I never doubted my brother but now I know his determination. The finality of everything – of Blonde, of what I saw, of how much Darry would do – hits me hard. I shudder and watch my hands. Only this time, they're not shaking.

Lisa Paillard wraps presses the final patch of gaze against my navel, taping it down. I jump, shocked back into the present. "There," she says. "You're lucky it's just a surface cut. It will heal up but you might have a small scar."

"Now your head," she continues, "is what you really need to watch." She tsks, flashing a light into my eyes. "You're eyes are so green," she murmurs. Lisa waits a minute and then clicks the light off. "Too many concussions, Ponyboy."

"Don't I know it," Darry says, appearing next to us. He has a Band-Aid above his eyebrow. "You feel okay, kiddo?" He sits next to me and puts an arm around my shoulder. Darry sighs, his voice tight. "I don't know what looks worse, you or the truck."

"Keep him awake for 24 hours," Lisa instructs. "Any nausea, blurred vision, bring him in." She looks at me. "And don't scratch those stitches." She glances back to Darry. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"No…I'm gonna take him home," Darry says. Anxious to get away, I nod and begin pulling Darry's jacket on. My shirt's shredded.

"We can go?" I ask him.

Darry gives a quick nod. "We can go."

Jessup walks over, he's smiling. "Well, Ponyboy," Jessup greets me, "looks like you won't be seeing the likes of me anytime soon."

"Yeah," I say. "Remind me not to rob any banks."

Jessup chuckles and turns to Darry. "Thanks for your cooperation and patience." He puts a hand out.

Darry takes it. "Thanks for your help, Detective." He helps me stand and I make it to wobbly legs.

"Steve and Soda are on their way," Darry says as we move away from the others. He looks down into the ditch. "Seeing as how we don't have a ride anymore."

"Hey," Darry says, noticing my silence. "Are you sure you're okay?" He puts both hands out and stops me. "Ponyboy."

Knowing he's thinking about marching me right back to the ambulance, I answer quickly. "Darry…are you sorry you did it?"

He doesn't bat an eye. "No. And I'll never be sorry." Darry lowers his blue eyes, cupping a hand around my bicep. "Kiddo, I meant it from day one. When he first took you."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "Thanks, Darry."

He gives me a look saying thanks isn't needed but ruffles my hair nonetheless. Darry walks a few paces into the road, impatient, searching for Steve and Soda. I place a hand on my chest, feeling the padding of the gauze.

I'll have a scar. But Blonde's dead and my hands don't shake. I shield my eyes against the dying sunlight and wait for tomorrow to come.

XXXXXX

Finally, it's over!!

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