Disclaimer- I do not own The Outsiders

Police Sergeant Darrel Shayne Curtis Junior was all means a practical man. He prided himself on his grasp of logic, on his keen since of sensibility. They had always survived him well and he excelled as an officer for just that reason.

But Darrel often wished he was different that he could be less logical, that he could not see hard fact for what it was and take it for truth. He wished he could…..

Darrel sighed and looked at the picture of his small family. His wife is infolded in his arms, his teenage daughter sat on the porch looking thoroughly uninterested in what was going on and little Mikey, Michael Ponyboy Curtis, smiling toothily at the camera. His green eyes were sparkling. He looked so much like his name sake that sometimes it hurt Darrel just to look at him.

It had been twenty seven years and the pain had never really gone away. It wasn't the uncertainty that hurt Darrel the most. It was the knowing that the uncertainty masked denial. Darrel wasn't stupid. His logic served him well. Ponyboy would never be coming home and it was this fact that made Darrel wish he was anything but sensible.

Twenty-Seven years and there was not a clue as to where his youngest brother might be, what might have actually happened. He'd gone to see a movie. "He loved movies." Darrel thought ruefully shaking his head. They'd never seen him again after that.

At first Darrel had thought, hoped, that Ponyboy was at his usual haunts: the book store, the bowling alley, the nightly double. He had not been at the library or with school friend's ether. Nobody had understood. Darry admitted, more often then he would like, that their relationship had been strained the past months but Ponyboy had no reason to just disappear.

When hours had gone to days they contacted the police, the state. Days turned into months and eventually a year. The cops sat Darrel and his brother Sodapop down. They were calling off the search. It was a dead end. He could be anywhere. They'd suggested that the boy had run of to San Francisco, as so many his age had. But of course they all knew better. On this particular visit they'd given a less humorous suggestion. In the simplest words, Ponyboy Michael Curtis was dead. Darrel had digested the fact but Soda he denied it. In some ways, Darrel knew, his brother still did.

It had been twenty seven years and each year was better and worse than the next. About six years in Darrel had decided he would join in the ghost of a search. He joined the Police force and never looked back. He never had been able to learn more about what happened to his brother, and logic told him that he probably never would; but it felt better than simply standing by. At least he could spare someone else the pain his family felt.

He missed his brother. He missed finding him curled up on the sofa, a book in hand. Heck, he even missed their fights. He regretted the fights, but he missed them all the same.

But logic dictated that you can't wallow in your grief forever. Life has a way of moving on. You don't stop living just because you lose somebody and Darrel was no different. He married, had kids helped Soda to do the same. But the hurt never really goes away.

And that was why Darrel wished he could through logic out the window; tell himself he'd see his brother alive again. But ever logical Darrel held no such hopes.

Sighing he put the picture down and headed to the break room for a cup of coffee, black no sugar, no cream; and most certainly no donuts. Ever sensible Darrel was never less then concerned for his health. The coffee was warm and bitter on his tongue but it did what caffeine was meant to do, keep his nerves in check.

"Curtis…" a lieutenant poked his head in the door. "There's a man in your office."

Darrel sat his mug down. "I'm on my way."

The man in his office was looking at the picture of Darrel, his parents and brothers. Darrel cleared his throat. He wasn't thrilled with somebody touching his things. He always was on the territorial side. Darrel walks over to his desk and takes a seat. "You have something to say?" The man nods putting the picture down. He stares at his lap. "Well…"

The man sighs. "This is going to crazy."

Darrel grunts impatiently. He has not got any time for wakos."Try me."

The man squints his eyes. "There's a ghost haunting the playhouse on Sutton…."

Darrel is not pleased. He has heard some lulus before but this takes the cake. He has never had time for people and their fantastical notions. "And their heads in the clouds, never thinking…."

"Buddy if this is just wasting my time..."

The man, David shakes his head. "I'm not." His hand his trembling. "The ghost it's a kid. His body it's in the woods near Oologah Lake, he's buried with his wallet under two forked trees.

Darrel's face turns white. "Please, please.." This could be what he's hoped for, what he has dreaded, the reason he joined the force. More likely it isn't, Darrel knows it well enough, but a part of him wanted to theory away logic. The other wants to embrace it. "Do you know the kid's identity?"

The man closes his eyes. "Go to the playhouse when the sun goes down. Call out and you'll see the ghost. Then go to the lakes."

Darry leans in and glares at the man. He is getting sick and tired of his cockamamie nonsense.

"If you go there I promise I'll tell…."

"Are you blackmailing me?"David shakes his head. Darrel sighs. He calls for men to take David away. He can't stand to be around him any minute longer.

When he is alone, Darrel sighs once more. He runs his hands through his hair. "There's a ghost haunting the playhouse on Sutton…." He remembered vaguely that the old playhouse was once a movie theater. How could he forget? It was the last place he ever knew his little brother to be alive in.

He does not know why he goes to the theater that night. Ghosts are not real, just made up stories and delusions of crazed lunatics. He knows nothing will be there but Darrel's morbid curiosity gets the better of him.

Darrel has not stepped in the old theater in years, certainly not since it's renovation, there were too many memories linked to Ponyboy. While Darry had never been a big fan of movies, his brother had loved them. Movies, especially it seemed the one's his brother had so loved, left Darry feeling slightly depressed.

The playhouse was cold and dark, disserted for the night. Darry, who had gotten the keys from the caretaker, rubbed his arms over his shoulders. "The heater must be on the fritz, that's all." As always Darry had a logical explanation.

He walked toward the stage. Something creaked and the room grew slightly colder still. Looking up, he thought he saw something move in the shadows of the catwalk. "Hello is anyone there?" No answer, "Hello?" Still no answer, "This is the police and you are trespassing. Get down now or I'll have to charge you with resisting arrest." It was a bluff of course but Darrel Curtis felt as if he had no other choice.

The air grew colder and Darrel's eyes grew wide. A figure floated down from the catwalks. Darrel grew ridged and stiff. The figure was not solid, but it was not completely transparent either. There was almost an air of color to his outdated cloths. Darrel didn't know whether to cry or laugh. He'd never believed in ghosts before.

The man, David, had been right. "But that would mean the body in the woods…" Darrel gulped. The ghost held his head down, hands in pockets. "Ponyboy…."

The ghost lifted his head. Darrel just stared at him. "All these years and…" his baby brother was really dead then, logic had won out. Darrel had always wanted answers, closure, but now he just want some kind of hope his brother was alive. That would never happen now.

A million thoughts ran through Darrel's head. He had always wondered what he would tell Ponyboy if he ever got to see him again. Now he had no idea what to say. His eyes crinkled and he felt tears began to fall. Twenty-seven years was a long time.

His brother stepped forward and gave a small smile. "Missed you Darry…"

Darrel reached out his hand and then quickly withdrew it.

"You can't hurt me Darry. It's okay." Ponyboy closed this distance. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. Darrel felt a shiver up his spine. His shoulder felt a cold, light pressure. He licked his lips and reached his hand out again, this time touching his brother's face. He half expected his hand to go through. Ponyboy smiled. "I'm pretty good at staying solid."

Darrel shook his head. "Oh Pony…."

"It's okay Darry, really. Please don't bawl. You never cried for mom and dad." But he had. He sobbed in the morgue, with the funeral director, alone in his room; but never in front of his brothers. He didn't correct his brother though.

"I've missed you buddy. I'm sorry I was so hard on you."

Ponyboy shook his head. "You were just trying to protect me. I understand that now." Darrel simply nodded.

"I didn't though kiddo, this still happened."

"It wasn't your fault Darry, please don't blame yourself." It was odd, Darry mused. Ponyboy was only fourteen when he died, but he sounded so grown up.

Darrel gave a sad smile. "I wish Soda could see you."

Ponyboy looked immeasurably sad then. "They always were close. Glued at the hip, mom used to say."

"It's better this way. If he could see me, Soda would never get over it. Just tell him I love him, will you?"

"Of course buddy."

"I love you to Darry." Ponyboy embraced his brother.

Darrel's whole body tingled as the tears flowed down his cheeks. He knew this would be the last time he and Ponyboy would see each other for a long time. But for once, able to through logic and sensibility a way, Darrel knew he had been given a gift, a miracle

"I love you too Ponyboy, tell mom and dad we love them too.

That night Darrel goes to talk to David. He looks at the man. "SIT!" his voice is harsh and the man's heart skips a beat. Would Darrel actually hit him, no, even with justification he wouldn't risk his job.

Darrel turned around once more. His face was set, angry. "I went to the play house tonight…"

The man gulped. Darrel gave a desperate sigh and sat down. The man gave a silent "oh"

Darrel shook his head. "Twenty seven years… twenty seven years…" The man doubted if the police sergeant ever cried but he looked close now. This scared the man even more then the thought of his anger. There was a moment of silence and then "He loved movies."

"What?"

"Especially the ones with Paul Newman, he was going to see Torn Curtain. I'd always hoped….." the man sighed shaking his head. "It's him in the woods…"

The man wondered briefly if he would be so calm if the body had belonged to someone had had loved. The man nodded. "The ghost, yes, it's his body."

"Did you do it?"

The man hung his head in shame. "We just wanted to scare the kid but then Mitch's blade slipped. We panicked. We never meant for it to go that far, really but when it did…."

Darrel's knuckles crack. "I would love to kill you right here and now but I won't. It won't do any good and the last thing my brother would want is for me to become a murderer but I have a few friends upstate that might not be so forgiving."

The man does not know what to say to this but his heart skips a beat. Darrel sighs. Finally he speaks. "Why did you decide to come forward?"

Startled the man slips his head down. "My daughter, the ghost…."

"Ponyboy, he had a name and it was Ponyboy. " Darrel's voice blared.

The man nods fearfully. "Ponyboy he pushed my daughter away from a falling set. I had to come clean. I owe him."

The sergeants' lips twitch. "He was always a good kid; he had a bright future ahead of him…." Shaking his head once more Darrel leaves the room and the man is led back to his cell.

Uncovering the body had been the worst. Darrel, normally of a strong stomach, had vomited. The skeletal remains, so carelessly placed, didn't even look like his baby brother. "How could anyone just throw you there?" Brandon Wellers, a man who had been in Darrel's Academy's graduating class, put a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Darrel. At least he can rest in peace now." Darrel nodded. He had a feeling his brother would not be haunting the theater anymore, but it still hurt.

The funeral had been rough too. Sodapop stumbled through a eulogy and broke down, clinging to his wife. Darrel stood, hands in pockets staring blankly ahead as the white coffin laid Ponyboy in the ground next to their mother. After all Ponyboy had asked him not to cry. He sighed and walked over to Soda. He nodded at Sara, Soda's wife, and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay Pepsi, he's home. Pony's finally home…."