A/N: So I've been living in DC for the summer and when I went to the wall I realized how lucky I was that I didn't have anybody to look up. However, I was there on Memorial Day and I watched men my fathers' age break down in tears, hug buddies, and express their political opinions. This has been in my head for awhile since then, seeing as S.E. Hinton said once that Soda died young in Vietnam. So this is just my take on that situation. Hope it works, thanks for reading, and please review!

Disclaimer: I only have massive amounts of debt in the form of student loans, so its not worth suing if you were considering it, cause I certainly don't own the outsiders…although I did get Rob Lowe playing MASH last night…

I had been working for the Washington Post for a year, living in Washington DC for a little over a year, before I finally got up the courage to go.

For most people the war had ended years ago, was little more then a blip on their conscience thought at any time. But for me, for my family, for my friends it had never ended.

People had come back so changed from that war, from halfway around the world separated from everyone who meant something to them. Steve had come back and been even more jaded and hurt. Strung out on heroine, the person we knew completely gone. Two-Bit hadn't been able to go, thanks to a bad knee. He was always a little bitter that he hadn't been able to go, felt like he wasn't as good as Soda and Steve.

Lucky for us Darry was able to get an exemption due to being our sole provider, but we couldn't get one for Soda. Not to say we didn't try, we tried six ways to Sunday, but he was young, healthy, and no ones legal guardian. So off he and Steve went, to what I can only imagine was the closest thing to hell anyone could ever experience.

But, it took a year. One year of living here, but almost 20 years of living with this ache. I finally went to The Wall.

Approaching it was one of the hardest things I've ever done, it was like finally admitting my brother would never come bouncing through the door again, his smile, his laugh, his arm around me when the nightmares came would never be there again. This made it final, this made it real.

I found his name easily in the book, not a lot of Sodapop Curtis's in the world. Panel S33, I walked slowly down the pathway, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of names, the thought of all the brothers like me who had come to the only place where they could mourn, so many of us having no bodies in a grave to visit.

Around me there were children playing the grass, and families out sightseeing. It was a surreal feeling, to be doing something so personal and painful while the rest of the world was oblivious.

I finally came to the panel, took a deep breath and found Soda's name about half way down in the middle. I chocked back tears as I ran my fingers over the smooth granite, broken only be the letters of my brother's name. I removed a slip of paper and a pencil from my pocket and carefully rubbed the pencil over the stone, Soda's name appearing on the paper. I would send this to Darry, who like me had refused to come here. I doubted it would help anything, but it was something, it was a little bit of Soda.

Looking down I placed a picture of Soda on the ground next to the base, a picture of a very young, happy, and reckless boy. A boy. That was who was lost in this war. It wasn't men fighting for a just cause; it was young boys, sent to fight somebody else's war.

But that's why I write now; trying to stop this from happening again, stop other young boys, other people's brothers, other people's friends from having to meet the same fate that Soda did. Losing my brother was the worst thing that would ever happen to me, possibly worse then losing my parents. But I'd still love him. I'll always love him.

A/N: Thanks for reading, review if you liked it…or didn't lol.