Summary: [Time Travel AU] Johnny and Dally are dead. Soda's quiet; a silent, lurking shadow. Two-Bit's a walking drunk, drowning himself into oblivion. Steve's a ball of anger, ready to explode at any moment. Darry, as always, trying to stop the seams from snapping. And Ponyboy dreams of better times, that may in fact, come true.

Chapter One

They came in flashes—big and blurry splotches of black and white—jagged and wrinkled around the edges, like an old film playing on loop. Somewhere from beside him, whispers murmured his mind, calling out in gasps, and in a blinding, fiery rage …

He woke slowly from this, the white ceiling greeting him once more. Pinpricks of fear danced on his skin and his heart fluttered, but after a while of laying in the soft covers of his bed, he calmed down. Remnants of a scream were lodged in his throat but they escaped with a small cough.

The time read 4:32.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, Ponyboy got up quietly and went to his desk. Through the mess he found his journal and opened it up, passing pages and pages of ramblings and heartaches to a half-blank one. He wrote:

Monday - Woke with silence. And in bed. Victory.

Not knowing what else to say, he reread his words and thought: was it truly a victory? He still had nightmares, albeit now he made no noise. The fact he still had them was humiliating, but at least now he wouldn't disturb his brothers. So yes. He considered it a sort of victory.

Memories of being roughly shaken awake by Darry and seeing Soda's glare firsthand were enough to stop his outbursts, but not enough to stop the thing that caused them. Soda, in another time, would've been proud.

Ponyboy closed his journal and shoved those troubling thoughts to the back of his messy desk. He went to his closet to get dressed and picked his clothes. He removed his pajamas and stood in front of the mirror, and in the semi-darkness of the early morning, he admired himself.

In this lighting his hair looked shorter than where he'd cut it, and the shadows defined the muscles he'd built over the past months. He remembered the previous week when Darry had noticed the changes. It was an awkward exchange of words, but it was better than he was expecting considering the fact that it was Darry who'd noticed and not Soda.

Although the age gap made it harder for straight talk (at least it had been a problem for them), ever since, Darry had been more understanding. He comforted him more than Sodapop now. Darry understood at least. More than Soda seemed to care now a days. But recently, these days, no one seemed to care.

Soda had become quiet after everything. What seemed like regular grief had turned into something more, and now it seemed that the Pony's mere presence annoyed him. After trying to but failing to understand, Pony left him to his own devices and had soon after removed himself from the room he shared with Soda, something that had started the violent night terrors and nightmares again.

Ponyboy sighed and moved to put on his clothes. He didn't have all the time in the world because it was a Monday. And he hated Mondays.

Those were the days where the Socs would regain their strength from over the weekend and continue to torment him. And as he didn't have Steve or Two-Bit to help him anymore, it made the passing days barely bearable.

Two-Bit had stopped coming to school nearly one week after. When Pony had gone to visit, he was a mess. His amiable personality had turned dark, and he now drank himself into a state of stupor. He was an angry drunk, throwing bottles and yelling. It reminded Pony of Johnny's dad. So he kept away now.

Steve, unsurprisingly, had gotten meaner. The fights with his father were taking the toll on him, and at Johnny and Dally's deaths, he'd become unbearable. There wasn't a time where you didn't see the anger that blazed in his eyes. Ponyboy especially stayed away from him.

Soda didn't talk much these days, or at least not to him and not to Darry. The palpable joy that had once surrounded his being was gone. It seemed that Johnny, Dally, and Sandy had taken all of him when they had left.

Darry was Darry. Responsible, and strict, but considerably less so. He insisted that there was no use crying over split milk, but despite hours of talking and crying and what not, those thoughts always lingered in his head. If he hadn't broken the rules not to stay out late, if he hadn't fallen asleep, if they hadn't fought … then his friends wouldn't be dead and everything wouldn't be ruined.

It was almost a miracle that Pony was able to stop himself and come back to reality. His rambling thoughts vanished once he noticed that the outside light was getting brighter. He dressed quickly then and headed downstairs.

It was already 5:00.

He marked the time down in his mental files and reached into the top cabinet. Two pills daily—once he woke up and once before he went to sleep—and those thoughts ceased to exist. At least, that's what they had told him.

o-o-o

Darry came home late, as he had been for the past four months. He looked tired as usual, purple crescent moons adorned the space under his eyes, but nevertheless he greeted Ponyboy with all the love he had.

Pony hugged him in return, and sat back down at the diner table where he'd been doing his algebra homework.

"Have you seen Soda?" Darry asked.

Not since Friday. "In the morning, right after you left." A lie.

"Hm. I'll take a shower before dinner, can you call him down?"

"Of course."

It was awkward enough between them, and had been tenser ever since a few weeks back. Their usual brother banter had escalated in a split second, with both sides hurling hurtful words, and ever since then they'd stopped interacting at all.

It'd occurred on a weekend, when Darry was at work, so he didn't know anything about it. Despite having their fight, Pony and Soda were adamant not to let Darry know. It seemed to be working.

Pony didn't have enough guts to face Soda and so resolved to write on a sheet of paper. He wrote Food is ready with a blue marker. He rushed upstairs as quiet as he could and slid it under the door and that was that.

Darry came back fifteen minutes later, dressed in loose clothing and with damp hair. He frowned immediately, noticing Soda's absence.

"I told him," Pony said, interrupting Darry before a thought could formulate into words. "But I think he wasn't hungry. And he said he wanted to take a short nap."

Darry sighed in a resigned tone. "Well that nap will turn into a full night's sleep at this hour." He picked up the newspaper and served himself chicken with rice and beans.

It was almost midnight at this rate, so watching Darry read the morning newspaper was hilarious and sad at the same time. Pony looked away and focused on his work he'd procrastinated on.

"Don't forget to take your nightly pill," Darry said unprompted, without looking up.

"I won't forget because I haven't forgotten to take them ever since you bought them," Pony replied, without looking up. There was a lingering frustration, but he pushed it down.

"Listen, Pony," Darry said. "I get it, I know. I'm just reminding you, okay? We don't want all that hard work to be gone in a snap of a finger because you forgot."

Hard work? What hard work? They were just pills that didn't seem to work. Pony said nothing and just nodded. He didn't have enough courage to tell Darry that the pills were like a placebo. They didn't keep the nightmares away. They barely kept the anxiety at bay, which at times, inhibited him from doing even the most mundane tasks that he could once do with ease.

Telling Darry would force him to buy more expensive ones. And he would probably get angry that Pony had lied to him, made him waste money. It was too late to back out now. The easiest solution was to lie, and he hadn't been discovered just yet, so it was working.

The mere thought of being discovered was sickening. Ponyboy stood up, going to the kitchen for the pills. He'd rather take a placebo and imagine that it worked to get rid of such unnecessary feelings.

"I think I'm going to go to sleep now," Pony said, suddenly very tired. The pill was in his hand. But he couldn't even make himself do the effort of getting water, much less to make himself finish his math homework. He'd just do it in the morning.

"Well, goodnight," Darry said. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Pony let out an amused huff, and left. Once he got into his room, he shut his door as softly as he could, so not to disturb Soda. He then collapsed into his bed, but quickly sat up. He gently placed his nightly pill on his nightstand, and stared at it. What difference would it make to miss one night?

Maybe he could even sell them at school, or in the shady places that Tim Sheppard hung out, and make double the amount. The notion was exciting as it was daunting; he could contribute to the household at the expense of his future. Or he could keep taking the pills that didn't seem to work and lie to Darry.

Pony opened his drawer and pushed the pill all the way to the back.

He turned off the light, and closed his eyes.

A/N: A rather weak ending, but surprisingly fitting.

I started writing this story when I was in 8th grade or as a freshman in high school. I've decided to rewrite it for old times sake and because I've developed so much as a writer. And also because I've always wanted to finish this. On that note, I can't believe I finished and posted this in one day.

Comments are appreciated. :)