Lea

Johnny already knew. He didn't just stab Bob because he was torturing Pony and would go after Johnny next, he stabbed Bob because he was killing Pony. That's why he was so protective and emphasized Pony's age in that one scene (it's my fault for bringing a 14 year old kid along. that one) - because if he hadn't stabbed Bob, Pony would be dead. In fact, I think that before everything with Bob happened, Johnny had never before been outwardly protective of Pony or treated him like he was younger or anything like that. After all, Pony said that Johnny just understands him and gets him without needing to say a word, and with how defensive Pony is about fitting in and not being a baby and such, I can't imagine he would've said that if Johnny had shown a tendency to think of Pony as a kid. Maybe Johnny was secretly protective, but he definitely didn't show it until the fountain, and until he felt the weight of Pony's life in his hands. (and yes, Johnny not wanting to get jumped was a part of the reason he killed Bob, but lets be real - the boy was actively suicidal and watching his best friend get killed right in from of him, Pony was probably at the forefront of his mind at the moment, the way Johnny was Pony's last thought before passing out)

They didn't tell Dally what happened when they went to him for help, but he figured it out after they escaped and he got some sleep. Johnny wouldn't kill someone unless he really thought they would severely hurt him or Pony, the way they did when they jumped him before, but he didn't seem too beat-up. Meanwhile, Pony was soaking wet from his hair to his waist and crying, and Bob Sheldon is revealed to have been stabbed directly over the fountain. Pony also probably sounded different from all the strain drowning put on his throat and lungs. It doesn't take a genius once you put the pieces together. Dally was pissed about it. He almost jumped Cherry when he next saw her (page 93), and went on a rampage around Tulsa beating on anyone who looked at him wrong. If Bob was buried before Dally went to go check on Johnny and Pony, then Dally went to his grave and spat on it or something. Randy probably was in hiding that week due to grief and shame, but Dally got his hands on the rest of Bob's close circle of friends. When Dally dies, some of his last thoughts are about the gang, and especially Ponyboy. He knows the kid could never bring himself to toughen up, and now Dally won't be here to protect him anymore and he wasted his last words on telling the most kind kid he knows to not be kind anymore. It's his final and biggest regret, along with leaving the gang.

The rest of the gang didn't find out until the hearing, and didn't hear Pony's side until after he wrote The Outsiders.

Darry was fucking distraught. If Bob wasn't already dead, Darry (and Soda) would kill him himself. He wouldn't let Pony go out without Darry or a member of that gang being with him, and the fear that Pony could've drowned made Darry develop a fear of Pony being around water. The park? Absolutely not. Too-long showers? Darry's knocking and making sure Pony is alive before he yells about the bill. Fishing trip? Fuck no. Darry lived the rest of his life with the guilt that if he just hadn't hit Pony, Pony would've never gotten drowned and Johnny and Dally would've lived. He also thinks about his potential last words to Pony. He has nightmares where that night goes as it did in real life, but Pony is killed at the fountain and Darry never gets a chance to apologize or clear the air with his brother.

Soda was also distraught. He felt like if he'd just diffused Darry and Pony's argument better, before things got out of hand, his baby brother wouldn't have had to go through that. Any time Ponyboy so much as takes a sigh after a sip of water, Soda is having terrible images of Pony never catching his breath again. He (and Darry) cries about it when Pony is out. Soda hates the park now, he just can't stand it. And any time he sees a fountain or a Soc that used to run with Bob, he's scowling and ready to fight with the next person who so much as pokes him.

Steve doesn't stop thinking about what could've been his last words to Pony because really, he doesn't remember them. He knows he always treated Johnny with his own version of kindness (not that he doesn't wish he couldn't have said goodbye), and that he did what he could for Dally (again, doesn't make it any less devastating), but what did he last say to Pony before that night at the fountain? At least with Johnny and Dally, he can comfort himself by saying he was there for them, and he knows that they knew he cared, but could he say the same thing for Pony? He gives the kid free pepsi and is kind to him, but never outwardly. Never to his face. Never in a way the kid could understand. If he'd died at the fountain, would he have died thinking Steve never cared? Steve is very careful with Pony after that, and his last words to anyone in the gang before they part are always something nice or playful.

Zachary Quinto (in his oddly high pitched voice): I WILL be emotive because I MUST portray Spock’s inner turmoil! But not too much! Still gotta stay true to the character!

I think tos Jim became the de facto leader of children survivors (as we see with Kevin Riley and Thomas), because of his age. That Jim carries the survivor’s guilt of not being able to save more kids—of watching the youngest ones die (ostensibly) in his care. his coping mechanism is thus leadership—usurping and clinging to positions of authority in an effort to save others; he craves authority, wants and needs to embody it to turn it into something that would’ve saved the others, would’ve saved him. Starfleet becomes his white whale. he needs the myth of Starfleet—an intergalactic emblem of peace, carving through deep space purely to discover (and defend). he embraces starfleet’s militarism because it echoes his understanding of power (some evils need to be defeated; innocents need to be protected). Jim also loves to defend—to entrench and hold boundaries (with the Klingons, the Romulans, with any hostile life). deep space is at the same time mystical—where birth and rebirth are always possible, where miracles happen every day—and orderly, where regulations and boundaries are clearly defined. Jim finds solace and role stability in this space, defending others, acting as a father figure, and indulging in hyper-independence & isolation.

that’s how we get tos Jim, who’s desperate for connection & intimacy, but ultimately clings to his leadership role like it can sustain him—like it’s all that can sustain him. (love, you’re better off without it, and I’m better off without mine. this ship, I give, she takes…I’m the captain…I’ve lost the enterprise, I’m losing command…nothing is more important than my ship) the guardian role is essential to his self-image.

conversely, aos Jim was the child. he was the scared, too-skinny kid who had the rug ripped from under him. aos Jim is born into a world where fatherhood/authority is already dead; George Kirk’s absence is a gaping hole in his life. Starfleet’s idealism makes martyrs, but it also cannibalizes its men to sustain its ideals. George’s replacement, Frank, neglects if not abuses him. that Jim witnesses the complete breakdown of authority. he watches Starfleet come with too little, too late. he sees the older kids die. he watches his only solace from Frank’s terror, his fresh start, become a waking nightmare.

that Jim learns that no one is coming.

his coping mechanisms are withdrawal from the system entirely; to bare his teeth at it, to claw at it, to draw blood. scare them before they can scare you. act bigger than you are. appearances are everything. to distrust authority entirely. give up on Starfleet, because Starfleet is an empty vaccum that will take and take, ineffectual at its core and hypocritical at best.

instead of being defined by his attraction to space, aos Jim is defined by his inability to stay still; his distaste for Earth, for Iowa, for groundedness. for him, staying in Riverside is a kind of self-harm, one he doesn’t understand how to escape and ultimately believes he deserves.

this Jim is lonely not because he uses distance as a defense, but because he’s so distrustful of others, he genuinely can’t imagine an open hand. (enlist?)

that’s how we get the Jim that ultimately cares way more about his crew than his ship; who latches onto Bones like a leech and craves Spock; who wants connection with far less shame has absolutely no expectation of receiving it. this is the Jim that blares sabotage while charging into battle, says fuck you to the admiralty, and would rather die saving lives than live with taking them—that’s what I was raised on.