Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. The Youngbloods own "Get Together."

We are but a moment's sunlight

Fading in the grass

May 24, 1969

Only Evie and Jan—her former co-worker—knew that Ella was on her way home, well, Ponyboy probably assumed that she would be making the trip, just not so soon. Then again, Ella had no idea that she would be breaking things off with Pete for good just a couple of days prior to this moment. She had spent the night with Vivian Porter, a friend from Berkeley. Vivian had been real generous, but she seemed sad that Ella was leaving to head home without an idea of when she would return. And that was just the thing . . . Ella really didn't know if she would return to New York or not. Right then, she was free to do whatever she wanted to do, didn't have any ties or obligations. She wasn't a stupid girl, although getting wasted with Vivian the night before leaving New York was a stupid choice, but she had managed her money well and took care of what little she possessed.

It was only two days later, and Ella could still feel the reminisce of that godawful hangover she'd had the day before.

Well, at least one good thing had come out of staying with Vivian, and that was the transportation back to Tulsa. Vivian was well known and well liked, and a few of her hippie friends were taking a trip out to California, so Benny, the driver, had agreed to take Ella along with them. There were only five of them altogether—Benny and his girlfriend, a guy named Rich, and another girl named Leah, or at least Ella thought that was right. She couldn't remember, and quite honestly, she hadn't cared all that much to ask. They were nice enough, she thought, and she had enjoyed the company. Rich played his guitar in the back of the bus, and Leah and him would sing along. Sometimes, Ella would join in, too, but on the first day, she had felt too sickly to even move.

To help ease herself and settle her nerves, she had smoked a few joints, her body seeming to relax as she listened to the sound of Rich and Leah. If they weren't signing, Benny had the radio playing, and Ella had to admit that it was better than silence. She didn't know any of them, but they were all friends, had known each other for quite a while. A few times, Leah had spoken to her, taken a few hits with her, and then they had briefly spoken about what San Francisco would be like.

Ella mostly wondered what Tulsa would be like, and a part of her felt nervous about returning. She had wanted to get away two years ago, a big part of her had, but there had also been a smaller part of her that wanted to stay. New York had been an opportunity, a big one, and even though it had only been two years, Ella knew that things were different now, or rather, she was different now.

Two and a half years really didn't sound all that long, but for Ella, it seemed like a lifetime ago. She could vividly remember starting college, could remember with perfect clarity what it felt like to be on her own officially, without anyone around to supervise her, to tell her what choices to make. She had been on her own, free to do whatever she wanted without anyone to answer to. Truth be told, even though she had been anxious, she was enthralled. Now, though, something about being there and leaving to return home felt . . . bittersweet.

"Hey back there," Benny called, interrupting Ella's thoughts. He pointed to a sign out the window as they passed by. "You'll be home by tonight, sister."

She grinned at that just as Leah took a seat beside her. "You want one?"

"What is it?" Ella asked, brows knitting together. It looked like a cookie, but you could never be too sure of that, as Ella had come to learn in the past. "Smells like oatmeal."

Leah chuckled, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Well I'd hope so," she replied, pushing the treat into her hand. "No surprises in it, I promise."

A smirk. It had been quite some time since Ella had a good meal; living with Pete didn't help with that, either, as they usually always ate on the go, or ordered pizza. The oatmeal cookie was good, she had to admit, even though it hardly did anything to satisfy her hunger. Oh, Lordy, the girl thought, she was in desperate need of a good, home-cooked meal. She figured that one of the diners in town would have to do when she arrived—it was better than road food.

"So, what's in Tulsa?" Leah asked, leaning beside her in the seat. "I've never been to Oklahoma."

"I'm from Tulsa," Ella answered leisurely. "My friends are back there."

Leah nodded. "No family?"

A flash of her father's face crossed her mind before being replaced by the day of her mother's funeral, a shiver going down her spine. Ella had done her best not to speak about her parents, the thought like a heavy weight at the very back of her mind. The only one who understood her was Ponyboy, and at one point, Dallas, but his parents weren't deceased. Ponyboy, though he was a few years younger than Ella, always had good advice, always knew what to say. Ella figured that he was turning out to be like Soda in that way, but sometimes, the way he spoke reminded her of Darry.

"Not exactly," she responded lowly, and took another bite of the cookie, the sweetness settling on her tongue as a smile began to form on her lips. "But my friends . . . they're family."

And that was truth enough.

Ponyboy wasn't used to silence, especially around Two-Bit Mathews. Then again, the older man had changed a lot in the past two and a half years. Oh, he still had his wits about him, which Ponyboy appreciated, and he figured he always would. He still used grease in his hair, but it was much longer now, sitting on his shoulders and falling over his forehead. His sideburns were still long, and the teen humored himself with the thought of Two-Bit growing a mustache. Boy howdy, would that surely be something, he thought with a wry grin.

Two-Bit hadn't missed it. "What are you crackin' about?"

"You growing a mustache," he quipped, and snorted with a shake of his head.

"Real funny," came the response, and Two-Bit chuckled. "You think I could pull it off? Hell, now wouldn't that be a nice look? Maybe I could pick up a real nice lady, huh?" He sent him a wink for good measure. "What do you think, Ponykid?"

The red-headed teen made a face. "Whatever happened to that girl you were seeing?"

"Oh, shoot, kid," Two-Bit said, waving him off, "that wasn't nothin'."

And really, it hadn't been. Most of the time, Two-Bit didn't bother himself with dating, not that he didn't want to, but . . . he had other obligations that took up the majority of his time. Besides, after he and his ex-girlfriend had broken up, Two-Bit really didn't have the heart to truly indulge himself. He wasn't about to admit that to Ponyboy, though . . . or anyone else for that matter. No, he kept himself busy enough, kept himself focused on working and helping his old lady out. Working nights was hectic enough as it was, and catching up on sleep when he wasn't helping around the house, running errands for his mom, plus playing second guardian to his kid sister took up a lot of his time. Truth be told, it had surprised him a bit when Ponyboy called him up asking for a ride, not that he minded in the least. In fact, he was glad to hear from the kid, happy to see him and do some catching up.

Now, that little gal he had been seeing—which was literally only for six weeks here and there—had been Shirley Dankins. She was real nice, which Two-Bit liked about her, but she (like the others he had dated over the course of two years) couldn't really make herself comfortable with his schedule. He couldn't really blame any of them, honestly. Who would have ever thought that Two-Bit Mathews would be a working man? Honest work, too, no less . . .

Lordy.

Ponyboy lit up a cigarette beside him in the passenger seat. "How's work treating you?"

"Like work," he smarted, and laughed. His face turned serious after a moment, though. "Gee, Pone, I don't know whether I'm coming or going half the time, especially with my old lady." A sigh. "Things have been hard on her lately, and without her income . . . well, I'm taking care of us. I tried taking up some work during the day, too, but I ain't having much luck there. Barely makin' ends meet."

The teen exhaled slowly. "You talk to Darry?"

"About what?"

"Work." When he glanced at him questionably, Ponyboy continued. "The guy he's working with, I can't remember his name off the top of my head, but he's always looking for an extra hand. I know Darry said he's been up to his ass with the business they're getting." A shrug. "With the warmer weather coming in, a lot of places are looking to remodel and repaint, so any help might do them some good, I reckon. You should ask Darry about it. I'm sure he'd appreciate it." He took a drag of his cigarette. "You could probably help them out a few days a week, and continue with janitorial until school closes, unless they need you for Summer cleanup."

Well, damn, Two-Bit thought to himself. Ponyboy had done a lot of growing up. He always knew the kid was gonna be smart, and glory, he was getting more like Darry. He had always been the brainy type, but now that he was older and more mature, it was really showing. Two-Bit really appreciated having Ponyboy around; he had come through for him various times before, helped him get through school, spoke to him after the accident . . .

Hell, he thought, but Ponyboy might make a better counselor than an English teacher. It hadn't come as a surprise when Two-Bit learned that teaching was what he was going to college for, although Two-Bit himself had thought he might go for something bigger, especially with all those brains of his. Then again, reading and writing had always seemed to be subjects that just naturally came to him. But he was good with people, too, a trait he shared with Sodapop. After Two-Bit had learned of his mother's health condition, he had started drinking excessively, more than he used to. And then came the accident. Both Darry and Ponyboy had been there for him, helped him straighten himself out. Well, Darry had a good, long talk with him after everything had been sorted out and taken care of, and Ponyboy had suggested that he talk with someone about his problem.

He didn't have the money, though, so Ponyboy had helped him ease off the bottle. It had taken a bit of time, but Two-Bit barely touched alcohol anymore. He would be lying if he said he didn't get the itch to get boozed up here and there, but it was easier to control these days, especially now that he was busy and had responsibilities that would affect himself and his family if he messed up.

"Tell you what, Pony," he said, after a minute, "I'll talk to Darry, alright? See what I can do."

A nod. "Good."

Their conversation was cut short as they rounded the corner, the Curtis house coming into view. What neither of them were expecting was to see none other than Dallas Winston leisurely sitting on the steps with a lit cigarette hanging from his lips. He was unmistakable, though Ponyboy had done a double take, flicking his own cigarette out the window, Two-Bit practically gawking beside him. It wasn't that either of them were put-off with seeing their old friend, but they certainly weren't expecting it. For Two-Bit, it was more of a shock, as he hadn't really kept up with any of his old friends too much, especially in the past year and a half, so seeing Dallas Winston was like . . . seeing an apparition. For Ponyboy, he felt a weird sort of numbness—he wasn't angry, but he felt like he was being sucked straight into the past, like this was part of a movie or something. It was something he couldn't quite explain, and he wasn't exactly sure if he liked it.

"Well, I'll be," Two-Bit said, stepping out of the car. "What the hell are you doin' here, you washed up ol' bum?"

It took Ponyboy an extra minute to get out of the car, his eyes focused on his old buddies as they shook hands like old times. He grabbed his bag from the backseat, and followed up the walkway after Two-Bit, a thought about mowing the grass and doing some weed-whacking crossing his mind. Darry most likely didn't have time, but now that Ponyboy was home for the Summer, he figured he could make some use of himself and do a bit of yard work.

Two-Bit laughed at something Dallas had said, before turning to Ponyboy. "You expectin' company or a roommate for a few weeks?" he asked, a comical look on his face. "This guy here says he taking up board at your place."

The teen's brow quirked, sheer surprise on his face. Darry hadn't said anything to him about Dallas staying at the house, but then again, Dallas even being in Tulsa was a shock in itself. Well, Ponyboy thought, he had lived there, after all.

Dallas nodded to him as he walked up the steps, sticking his hand out for him to shake, before saying something about him no longer looking like a little kid.

Ponyboy shook his hand, his grip firm. "Hi, Dal."

Evie smiled at her work. "Looks real nice," she complimented Mrs. Taylor. "You were right, pink is definitely your color." She brushed her finger over the woman's nail-beds, making sure they were all dry. "I'd say you're all done."

Mrs. Taylor nodded, inspecting Evie's job. "You know, Evelyn," she began, "I would say your mother was right about you all those years ago." A grin. "You really take after her." Reaching into her bag, she offered the girl a generous tip. "Take care now."

Not that Evie minded working with her mother—she quite enjoyed it—she couldn't wait until the day when the business was all her own. She had been dreaming of running her own salon since she was a little girl, and her mother knew that she had a natural knack for doing hair and nails. Evie had always been stylish, liked helping other people beautify themselves, too. It was something that brought her great joy, like Ponyboy Curtis and his writing. Evie, though she wasn't into gloating herself, knew that she was good at what she did, too, and one day, she would take her mother's small salon further than it ever had been—she was certain of it.

"Evie." Her mother's voice brought her daydreaming to a halt, her eyes snapping up in the direction of Mrs. Martin. "You can clean up over there and close the station for today."

The dark-haired girl glanced at the clock—it was nearly four. Her mother liked to finish up her hair appointments by four thirty on a Saturday, preferring to have longer hours on weekdays. Usually, Evie and her mother would go home together if Evie was helping her with clients, but since Mrs. Martin was finishing up her final customer for the day, her mother had told her she could go home. Beth—Evie's younger sister—had probably started dinner, and truth be told, Evie was starving. She had tried some silly diet from a Cosmopolitan magazine, which had helped her shed a whole of eight pounds, but Evie didn't really think the diet lifestyle was for her. It wasn't that she thought she needed to lose weight anyway, but she had wanted to give herself a challenge, something she wouldn't usually do—which had ended up being short-lived. Besides, even though she had followed along and limited herself on snacking, she couldn't say that she really enjoyed it so much, even with any progress.

Stepping out of the salon, Evie breathed in the fresh air, her stomach rumbling a little. Glory, but she sure hoped Beth was cooking up something del—

"Aren't you just a sight for sore eyes."

Evie felt her stomach flip, her hunger completely forgotten about. She knew that voice anywhere, and her heart skipped a beat, or several, as she turned around, the smile on her face giving her a bright glow. Oh, but this was most unexpected, and the young woman couldn't contain her glee.

"Steve!" she practically shouted, running into his arms.

Speaking of delicious . . .

He grabbed her as her body clashed into his own, his arms securing around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She couldn't believe it was really him standing there—it had been so long. Too long, in fact, and there was a part of her that nearly wanted to cry. Jesus, but he sure smelled good, she thought, pressing her face into his neck. She had missed him so much, and just being in his arms again felt like it was one of her many dreams. Glory, but Evie was half afraid to let go of him, scared that he would disappear into thin air, leaving her standing there alone.

She felt his lips against her cheek before his grip loosened, her shoes touching the ground again. She took him in, eyes maneuvering over his entire being. He was still himself, she thought, but he did look different. His eyes were . . . Evie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something off about his eyes—not in the way he looked at her, but something was there that hadn't been before. But still, Evie was too happy with him being there, so excited to see him that nothing else seemed to matter in that exact moment except for the two of them.

"You didn't tell me you were coming home," she said, one corner of her mouth raising. "Is Soda with you?"

In a flash, Steve's pupils seemed to dilate at the mention of his friend's name. "No, he's not here," came the quiet answer, and Evie frowned. "I wanted to surprise you, though."

"Well, you did," she replied, and leaned up to kiss him on the lips. Glory, but she had waited for that for a long time—a real long time. Their kiss was short, but deep, a million emotions spilling out all at once, and Evie's heart seemed to race inside her chest. She felt Steve's hand gently caressing her face, his touch almost too feathery, as if he were afraid to touch her. It wasn't something that the dark-haired girl was used to; usually Steve was more firm, more eager. She reached up, touching his hand with her own, before lacing their fingers together. His hold was lose, she noted, and she pulled back ever so slowly. "I missed you, Stevie," she tried, giving his hand a quick squeeze.

He smiled, but it wasn't full. "I missed you, too, Evie."

"I was actually about to send you a letter," she continued, and chuckled lightly. "Good thing I didn't, huh." He was silent. "Well, I guess you would've had something waiting for you, and then I could have surprised you . . ." When he didn't respond again, Evie stepped back, looking up into his eyes. "Steve, is something wrong? Did I say something?"

There was another brief moment of silence before Steve spoke up, his entire expression turning to one of dread. Evie wasn't dumb, and she knew that something was wrong. Steve had always been witty, always had a sly remark at the tip of his tongue—one of things she loved about him. But ever since she had mentioned Soda's name, his entire demeanor had seemed to go south. Evie felt her stomach begin to twist up, as if she were on the verge of hearing bad news, and for a split second, Mary's face flashed through her mind, along with Darry's and Ponyboy's.

"Evie . . . Soda's missing."

Her heart dropped, her body turning cold.

Dallas hadn't wanted to make Mary DeVaney his business, but after she had rapidly left the Curtis house a few nights back, acting like she was nuts in the head, both Dallas and Darry assumed that the girl was troubled. Well, Dallas thought that "troubled" was just a nice way of describing whatever in the hell she was. Thing was, he had zero interest in any problem of Mary's, his only concern regarding her being his buddy, Soda. He had told Darry that he would see if he could find out what was going on with the girl, since he had more spare time on his hands. Besides, Buck didn't have any work for him on this particular day, and he really didn't fancy the idea of hanging out with Ponyboy. He didn't have a problem with the kid at all, but something in his face had made him feel as though his presence wasn't exactly welcomed. Well, Dallas could only imagine why. It was like Darry, who had been a bit skeptical of him showing up out of the blue.

Dallas knew that they had all kept in touch over the years, so they were still on that closer, friendlier level whereas he had stepped on the outside of the circle. Then again, Mary DeVaney hardly seemed to be in the loop of things, so Dallas wasn't exactly sure that she was really all that close with any of them, especially Darry. Dallas remembered Mary mostly hanging around Soda, even after they had gotten together, and he only knew so much about her from his ex-girlfriend. The most he honestly knew was that she was a high class Soc broad with an uptight witch of an aunt—dead aunt now anyway. So why he really gave a shit was still beyond him. He told himself it was because he was doing Darry a favor of sorts, like scoping out his kid brother's girlfriend, who was a bit whacked upstairs. Yeah, that sounded good to him.

He really didn't care.

Besides, he didn't enjoy the side of town Mary lived on. It was too nice looking for the likes of him, and he knew that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, maybe it wasn't so much him than it was the old, beat-up truck. What Dallas honestly found strange was the fact that the kids in the area were dressed down, not like how he remembered Soc-y kids dressing. No, these kids were adorning ripped up jeans like it was the style or some shit, and the girls were wearing higher and tighter dresses and skirts. The fashion was a little whack, too, he noticed.

What in the fuck had happened?

A sign of movement caused his eyes to glance back in the direction of Mary's house. Or was something like that what one referred to as a mansion? Jesus Christ, but it had to be the biggest house in the neighborhood. He saw Mary walking toward the mailbox, her chin lowered as if she were afraid to look at anyone, or have them look at her. Dallas knew that expression all too well, though. It was something that had irritated him to see on Johnny's face years ago. Guilt. An idea crossed Dallas's mind, and he suddenly felt irked. Was this bitch two-timing Soda? He wondered if that was why she had rushed out of the Curtis's house with her tail between her legs. Then again, why would she bother asking Darry when the last time he had heard from Sodapop was? Perhaps she was looking for a way out . . . one of them "Dear John" letters or some other bullshit.

There were two envelopes in her hand as she made her way back inside, and Dallas figured he wouldn't see the girl anymore if he had chosen to sit there for the rest of the night. One thing he had come to learn was that Mary DeVaney was a fucking hermit. So was she cheating?

Either way, with that looming thought on his mind, Dallas was going to get to the bottom of it come hell or high water.

It was well after dark when Ella was dropped off at Jan's house. The older woman and her were still good friends, and when Ella had called to let her know that she would be back in town, Jan had been over ecstatic, insisting that she come stay with her during her time in town. Ella had thought that was awfully generous of her to offer, but she figured Jan would be thrilled to have some company, especially after her husband passed a little over a year ago. Jan had always been a strong woman, a trait Ella truly admired about her. Unfortunately, the young woman was greeted by an empty house, as Jan was still working. To keep herself occupied, Jan had taken up more shifts at the store, so she most likely wouldn't be home until later, which she had explained to Ella when she had called. Still, she had left her spare key under the flower pot to the right of her door, and Ella was able to get inside.

It felt strange being back in Tulsa, she thought to herself. Truthfully, she had a good mind to go and see whatever became of her old house. She didn't want to stay in Jan's house too long without any company, so once she was done placing her bags in the spare room Jan had so kindly set up for her, Ella decided to take a walk to the cemetery to see her mother. It was something that had been on her mind for a long time—talking to her mother. Ella wondered if her mother would be proud of the person she was today, or if she would be be angry with her for the choices she had made. A soft sigh fell from the girl's mouth as she thought about it. Her mother had raised her to be a lady, to have respect and dignity, so she figured she wouldn't be too happy about her former "modeling" job. Or Pete. Or what her life in New York had turned out to be.

Once she was outside, Ella lit a cigarette, the cool night air much better than the day's warmth. Evie had told her that it had been cold out, but was getting warmer—and quickly. Ella didn't mind. She really didn't know how long she planned to stay in Tulsa, either, for she had the option to come and go as she pleased. Pete had been so stupid to assume she hadn't saved any of her money. But that was one thing Ella had always been good about—balancing her money.

The cemetery wasn't far from Jan's house, only a few blocks, and Ella had enjoyed the walk. She let the memories of her childhood swarm her mind for the majority of the walk, a smile touching her lips as she remembered her and her mother walking down those very streets some time ago.

Her cigarette was discarded before she set foot inside the cemetery's gates, and she found herself in front of her mother's headstone only a few minutes later. She felt numb suddenly, an ache in her chest that hadn't been there before. Her eyes began to water, but she was unable to make herself cry. Had it really been two and half years? In that moment, everything seemed so long ago, but Ella could vividly remember being in the hospital with her mother when she had passed, the doctors verifying it, the feeling of complete dread taking over her body at the reality that she was officially alone.

A crunch behind her caused her to whip around on her feet, her eyes widening in shock as she looked at who was standing there, his expression mirroring her own. Ella's jaw practically dropped as she ran to him, all other thoughts forgotten as the two friends embraced each other.

"Ponyboy!" she breathed, instant relief filling her.

Come on, people now

Smile on your brother

Everybody get together

Try to love one another right now

Looks like everyone, except for Soda, is back in Tulsa again!

Thank you for reading! Feedback is always appreciated! :3