Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders. Van Halen owns "Finish What Ya Started."

I like to look at the long run

I like to take each step, one by one

Right on time, you will arrive

By keepin' the dream alive

September 27, 1969

Evie wanted to roll her eyes. She really, really did. Well, okay . . . maybe Ella and Dallas going on a date wasn't such a horrible thing, but the brunette couldn't exactly say that she perceived it as a good thing, either. It wasn't so much that she disliked Dallas Winston, but . . . after what had happened with him and Ella the last time—when they were together three years ago—Evie couldn't find it in herself to see a better outcome for her friend and her ex-boyfriend this time around. But they weren't getting into a relationship . . . it was just a date, right? Oh, Lord, but Evie sure hoped that it wasn't leading to a new relationship. Ugh, really . . . she wanted Ella to be happy, she did, and if that meant being with Dallas Winston all over again, then so be it . . . but she was still secretly crossing her fingers for Ella to find someone better, someone who . . . was good for her. At that particular moment, a certain individual did cross her mind, but glory hallelujah . . . that would probably be . . . strange.

She shook that thought off immediately.

Still, Ella had seemed rather excited, and Evie had to offer her a genuine smile. She remembered Ella back in school . . . She was more reserved, more uptight, more . . . shy, and so, so plain. But now she was different—more outgoing, more confident and sure of herself, and like Evie, she had a head on her shoulders. Evie figured that Ella knew what she was doing, or rather, what she was getting herself into . . . potentially, that is. She had to admit, though, that Ella going on a simple date with Dallas was more rational than what Mary DeVaney had previously dumped on them just a minute prior, which was enough to make Ella's jaw hit the table, and Evie to nearly spit her drink out . . .

She wanted to sell her aunt's house and travel the world.

Talk about shocking the hell out of someone.

"Why?" Evie inquired, leaning back into the booth. Well, she reckoned, it was understandable, taking everything into account. Mary had a bit of a rough childhood, her overbearing, controlling, and creepy domineering aunt being the director of it. Yikes. So, in a way, the twenty-year-old could very much understand why Mary wanted to get out, have experiences of her own, and put her past behind her. It sounded easy enough, but Evie wondered if it honestly would be . . . for Mary, that is. "I mean, I can see wanting a place of your own . . . but traveling the world? Why so soon, or sudden?"

Apparently, the same thought had been buzzing around Ella's head, because she nodded along. "Where would you go?"

Mary shrugged, and if their inquiries bothered her, she didn't show it. "I don't know," she answered, and leaned forward to rest her elbow on the table, chin in hand. "Traveling is something I've always wanted to do, and being in my aunt's house . . . where she passed . . . just doesn't sit well with me." A crestfallen expression formed on her face, brows drawing together. "I just want to get away from here for a while, see the world, find myself, figure things out. I don't want my aunt's house to be the place I come back to when I return . . . if that makes sense."

Ella made a sound like a light hum. "It does," she stated, and glanced once at Evie. "I think traveling would be a good thing for you, Mary."

"Who would you go with, though?"

It was the million dollar question that Evie had asked, one that Mary had been thinking about since she had gotten the itch to up and go. Really, she didn't know that many people, and there was some part of her that wanted to go alone . . . like a self-search type of deal. Mary understood where both Evie and Ella were coming from, as their questions had been the same ones she had asked herself for the past few weeks . . . now it was only a question of when she would go. She wanted to get her aunt's house on the market, or at least, get it off of her hands . . . and just . . . disappear. Of course, that wasn't the way to go about things, she knew, but the quicker, the better. Ever since her aunt had passed, and Soda had ended their relationship, Mary had been in the dumps. The only good thing that had come out of the Summer of 1969 for her was going to Woodstock, and getting herself the help that she needed from a specialist. No longer was she even thinking about alcohol, and even though she still loved Soda with a desperation that was unyielding, she knew that it was a hopeless cause to sit around and wait for a silly possibility of him returning to her.

Life didn't work like that.

Mary, even after all she had gone through, remained hopeful for other things, still had a passionate fire for future experiences, and she had an innate desire to fulfill her dreams. When Soda had left her, all of these realizations had opened her eyes to other things . . . the things she had forgotten about. Of course she had wanted to experience some of them with Soda, when they were together, but obviously, none of that was in the cards for her anymore . . . so she would be going alone, and perhaps, in some way that she didn't quite understand yet, it would be for the best.

She responded, voice somewhat cautious. "It'll probably be just me."

Evie's one brow raised, but she wasn't exactly surprised. "I see," she said. "Well, when do you think you would . . . leave?" It wasn't asked with disdain, despite her wording. Evie had always been blunt and straightforward like that. "Or where would you go first?"

A small smile appeared on the younger girl's lips. "I think I would travel to Scotland . . . but I don't plan on jumping the gun and hightailing it out of the states immediately," she admitted. "There's still a few things I'd have to take care of first . . . and I can't just leave without a place to return to, either." A light chuckle escaped her mouth. "Maybe Scotland, though. I really don't know."

Ella took a sip of her drink. "Well, you would have to take a million pictures for us throughout your travels, so we can experience it all, too."

A grin. "I could make that happen."

"Sounds like a plan," Evie chirped in, and sent her a friendly wink.

Steve was glad for the nights he had off duty, but he was particularly glad that he had this specific night off, because he had one hell of a headache. He had yet to mention anything to Soda about finding those pills in his case, and he partially wondered if it was because he couldn't muster the courage to do so. If it was anyone else, Steve wouldn't have a problem opening his mouth and speaking just exactly what was on his mind, but there was something more delicate about this situation, and an uneasiness was settling in the pit of his gut. Now, usually, Steve would always confront Soda if he had a problem with something, or if he was concerned—he had done it loads of times in the past, always checking in, or saying what he felt—but now . . . he found that he was unable.

Perhaps, it was because this was more of a personal matter than anything else, or at least, that's what Steve really wanted to believe. But he knew that wasn't the truth, either, and it was mostly because Soda just seemed on edge about everything, and Steve actually felt . . . unsure of his best buddy and lost at what to do. He knew he should confront him, regardless if he got pissed off at him; it was the best thing to do . . . only not right then.

No, at that particular moment, they were all out to have a good time. It was only Steve, Soda, and a few other guys they worked with, and they had decided to go down to the bar for a few drinks and to do the regular bullshitting. Steve usually enjoyed these kinds of nights, liked to get away from everything that had been on his mind and loosen up a bit. Besides, it always did everyone a world of good to get the hell away from work duties. Other than that, Steve noticed, for the first time in a while, Soda appeared to be having a good time, a smile adorning his lips, his eyes not as grim as they had been. Well, to be perfectly honest, he had been looking rather upbeat the past two days, and Steve had a good inkling as to why . . . although he didn't exactly feel all that excited about it himself. It's not that he couldn't, but he found himself a bit torn over feeling happy for his friend, or put off because of Mary . . . who was also a good friend of Evie's. Good Lord.

Steve leaned back in the chair he was sitting in as he finished off his beer, before signaling for another one. Across the bar from him, beside Larry Clementine, Soda stood, his hand resting against the back of the chair Lori Maselo was seated in. Steve couldn't exactly say he was a fan of hers, and it wasn't because Soda was placing the moves on her only a few weeks after dumping Mary. It was because of the way he was going about things. Oh, sure, Steve figured Soda could probably use a good lay, and hell, he would be all for cheering that one on—typical shit talk among the guys—but in the back of his mind, he knew that something, beside using, was off with his friend, and the more it went on, the more it seemed to irk Steve.

Other than that, Lori was . . . alright. She was decent looking, and she was nice enough . . . maybe too nice for Soda's oncoming antics. But she was also a few years older, and they had only met her because she worked in the convenient store beside the diner they had stopped into a few times (the one Steve had mentioned to Evie in his letter to her a few weeks back), and Steve had went in to get himself a pack of smokes, leaving Soda to chit chat with Lori, who was working the register. One thing had led to another, and well . . . she had agreed to a date with him Saturday night. It hadn't surprised Steve in the slightest, not really, because Soda attracted girls without so much as looking their way. It had always been like that, and apparently, Lori was no exception to his friend's charming demeanor. Sometimes, Steve wanted to roll his eyes, but . . . oh well. He didn't think anything was going to come of Soda and Lori anyway, so he wasn't going to plan on mentioning anything to Evie. Christ, that would be all he needed . . . to have Evie run back and tell Mary that Soda was seeing a new girl, which knowing Mary, as Steve had come to over the past few years, she would be in tears and all that girly shit, and Steve didn't want to hear about it, or deal with it on Evie's end, so . . . that was that.

"Looks like Curtis hooked a real nice fish, huh?"

Steve blinked, and turned to face Pete Johnson, another in their group. "Yeah, real nice," he said, and took another swig of his beer.

Pete smirked. "She's a cute one. Hell, if he wasn't reeling her in, I'd be tryin' to." He looked the girl over, a smug expression plastering his face, and Steve could tell that he had one too many to drink by the look in his eyes. "Be nice to get a fuckin' blowjob or somethin', I'm tellin' ya." He hit Steve on the shoulder, a friendly gesture. "Better him than me, though . . . by the looks of it."

He glanced back over at his friend and Lori, one brow raising as he took in the scene. Soda was gently cupping her face, his lips on hers as her arm reached up to hook around his neck, Larry and Frank, who they sometimes called "Bullet", howling beside them. Steve only half-smiled, though, not wanting to ruin the night for anyone, even though he wasn't exactly about to cheer the scene on. He was glad that Soda was loosening up, happy for him in that way, but no matter how much he wanted it to be sincere, he just wasn't able to, and it was all because of what he had found out the other day.

There were so many questions going through his mind, and he knew that he would have to talk to Soda sooner rather than later . . . before things could progress any further. Glory.

It wasn't even a few minutes later when Soda came swaggering over to where he was seated, Lori on his arm with a large grin on her face.

"We're gonna head out," he said, and for a split second, Steve could see the reminisce of his old friend lurking behind his eyes. He nodded toward him, before giving his arm a light slap, a grin on his own face as he did. "See ya later . . ."

Steve forced himself to smile back, offering Lori a brief look of acknowledgment. "Have fun," was all he responded with, his tone as vague as he was feeling.

He needed another drink.

Ponyboy wasn't really into the party scene, but he had attended quite a few both before and during his college years. He wasn't too much of a drinker, either, but on this particular night, he had consumed a beer or two, and decided that a few shots wouldn't kill him. Besides, it had been a while since he'd had any real fun, the last of it being back in the Summer. He wasn't even drunk, not even close to tipsy, but he was loosened up enough, his mind set on finding Julia. Even though there was a part of him that did remain unsure about her motives, he was still looking forward to seeing her. He didn't want to really entertain himself with the idea of him and her getting back together, or anything like that, but there were thoughts consuming his mind, and he had allowed himself to consider such a possibility.

The Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter" was playing at a pretty decent volume from the other room, and Ponyboy made a face as he walked closer to it, his eyes searching for his ex-girlfriend. Well, it had only been a little over an hour . . . maybe, and it wasn't even that late, or at least, he didn't think that it was, so maybe she was—

"Ponyboy!"

He jerked around quickly, nearly colliding into a couple behind him, before his eyes met hers. So she had shown up after all, he thought, and relaxed a little as she eased herself through the sea of other college party-goers to make her way over to him, an instant grin forming on his lips. Boy howdy, did she look good, too, was his next thought, and he sure hoped that she found him decent just the same, although he tried to keep himself levelheaded about the situation.

"Hey, Julia," he greeted, and nodded toward her outfit. "You look real nice."

She grinned, all teeth. "Thanks, Ponyboy. You look real nice, too."

If it wasn't for the alcohol in his system relaxing him, he would have blushed at her comment. "You want a drink or something?"

A nod. "Sure."

He led her into the kitchen and grabbed two beers from the cooler, offering one to her, which she had gladly accepted. Julia was more of a drinker than him, but she could also handle her liquor better than he could, too . . . not that that was something he was willing to tell anyone. But Julia liked to have a good time, liked to socialize and do things that he wasn't always into, although they had clicked in a different way . . . one where their personal interests rested. They both liked to read, both enjoyed the simple things that life had to offer, but Julia had another side to her that liked to get drunk and be a bit reckless, whereas Ponyboy liked to go out and see a movie, or watch the sunset at night. Julia wasn't into that kind of thing, but that was okay. For the time that they were together, they had balanced each other out . . . and they both liked it that way.

"Have I kept you waiting too long?" she asked, giving him a teasing smile, one he knew too well.

He shook his head. "No, not really . . . I didn't get here that early." It was a lie, but she didn't need to know that. Glory. He decided to quickly change the topic. "You want to dance or something?"

Now that was something Julia loved to do, and her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July, her lips pulling into a full and genuine grin. She was good at it, too, and it was something that Ponyboy always liked to do with her when they were together. Shoot, he thought, he really didn't want to remember any of that, but now that she was there with him in person, his thoughts and memories were getting harder to keep away, and he suddenly found himself wishing that they really were together again. He supposed that being away from her for the duration of the Summer had brought his mind back to a place where . . . she didn't exist, in some way . . . mainly because she had never been to his house, but now that he was back to the area that he had met her in, he felt himself beginning to settle into its atmosphere with her, and he was only more consumed as she placed his hands on her waist, looking up at him as they began to move to the beat of the music.

After a while . . . as more songs played, as more drinks were consumed, everything started to feel like a blur to Ponyboy, the music pulling him along with it and Julia, who was laughing and smiling with him, and he allowed himself to be pulled back into a time with her . . . a time that felt so real and half-completed, one where he was calm and at ease, nothing else on his mind but her, and him and her . . . and how young the night was.

Before he could process it happening, Julia leaned up, her lips touching his as her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer to her . . . and everything seemed to stop for those few seconds. Ponyboy was too mesmerized to even wonder if any of it was real or not . . . or if he was simply imagining the entire thing . . .

She pulled back slowly after a minute, her eyes in a daze as she stared at him, tongue moving across her bottom lip before she spoke. "Do you want to get out of here?"

For as excited as she previously had been, Ella found herself rather quiet that night. Beside her in the driver's seat, Dallas leisurely smoked a cigarette, the radio being the only noise in the vehicle. They had gone to the drive-in and caught a movie, and then Dallas had offered to take her out for a bite to eat, but much to his displeasure, she couldn't make her mind up on where she wanted to go, so he drove down to the convenience store, told her to wait inside while he went in, and after a few minutes, he came out with two bags of candies and other assorted junk food, and a few bottles of Coke. Ella was surprised, but she was content with it, a smile on her face as she chewed away on a candy bar. Dallas hadn't eaten much, instead deciding to smoke while she ate.

They hadn't gone anywhere all that great, opting for the scenery that the ranch offered down the dirt trail that encircled the perimeter of the property. It was nice back there, Ella had to admit . . . quiet and serene, and she could imagine falling asleep out there under the stars and the night-sky, the Autumn air against her skin coming through the cracked windows . . .

Dallas eyed her out of his peripheral as he inhaled, the smoke trailing around the interior of the truck before dissipating out the window. There was a part of him that had wanted to really take her out ever since the night of the rodeo, but he'd never bothered to actually ask her . . . until the other day. It felt a bit strange to him now, sitting beside Ella, being out on a date with her . . . as though their pasts had never taken place, as though they had picked up where they left off, or something like that. The blond wasn't quite sure he could put his finger on it, but something about being with Ella felt as though the past two and a half years hadn't happened at all. But still, on the other hand, thinking about him and her made him feel every fucking raw emotion that had come with his past, as well as everything that had happened with them, and then afterward.

His nose wrinkled a little as he tried to bury those thoughts. "Why did you come back?" he decided to ask, voice measured. "Thought you always wanted to get out of here . . ."

Ella's shoulders dropped a little as she considered the question. "Honestly," she began, "I did always desire to leave Tulsa, always wanted to get away and have adventures of my own." A sigh. "But, after what happened with you and I . . . as well as losing both of my parents . . . I guess it felt more like I was running away, even if it was probably the best thing to do at the time." She gave him a small smile, a light chuckle escaping her mouth. "When I got to New York, everything was brand new and exciting to me, and I loved it. I really loved it. It was a thrill to be on my own, to not have anyone to answer to, and more than that . . . I didn't know anyone there, and they didn't know me." Her expression changed, then, her tone becoming more solemn. "It was easy to start over, but I found that . . . after a while, no matter how much we try to run, or escape it, the past always comes back to find us, and no matter how far you travel, home is going to call you back at some point."

Dallas's lips pursed at her response. In a way, it was understandable to him, possibly even relatable to a certain degree . . . but he wasn't about to share that with her. No, his reasons for returning to Tulsa had nothing to do with . . . any of that shit she was talking about.

He flicked his cigarette butt out the window. "You could have gone anywhere else."

"But this is home," she replied easily enough. "And I guess there was a part of me that wanted to come back, even though I was afraid to."

Now that caught his curiosity, and he found himself turning ever so little to face her. For a moment, he could almost see the old Ella in her face, the once shy tutor who was too literal and inside her own shell that she didn't even know how to communicate with others without looking at the ground. He was able to tell that there was something to her words, but Dallas wasn't the type of person to dig deep into any of that shit, so if Ella wanted to elaborate . . . it was on her. But Dallas also couldn't help the strange urge he felt to want to know more about her, the new her and not the old her that had been his high school tutor, or his former girlfriend. No, he wanted to know who she had been in New York, the things she had done that made her who she was now. And what about coming back to her past scared her, or put her on edge?

It pissed him off that he wanted to know, or that he even cared to want to know, but there was always something with Ella fucking Mitchell, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

"Afraid of what?" he asked, sounding somewhat irritated. He hadn't meant to be direct with her, but the emotions he was feeling right then were irking him. "I mean, hell, Mary killed her aunt, so anything worth being scary in this shithole is gone."

Ella shot him a look, not exactly appreciating the dark humor—although there was a tiny part of her that had felt a small urge to laugh. She didn't want to recall Vera DuPres, though, and she definitely didn't want to think about what Mary had done, either. Still, Dallas always had a way of being comical in a morbid way, one which most people didn't take kindly to, and most of the time, Ella was no exception to it.

"Forget it," she said, and lit up a cigarette of her own. "You wouldn't understand."

Dallas snorted. "Sure I wouldn't, sweets." His glare was enough to state how he was feeling right then, and before he could stop himself, he bit out an insult. "But you're right, I suppose. Anyone trying to understand whatever shit that goes on in your brain most likely don't have a workin' one of their own."

She breathed in deeply, jaw clenching. Minutes ticked by as she continued to smoke her cigarette, her only other movement being to toss the butt outside. She wondered why she had even mentioned any of her feelings to Dallas, because he never did anything but shoot her down, or make some snide ass remark to get under her skin and toy with her. It had always been that way with them, though, since the day she had first met him. It was like a damn contest between them to see who could give who more of a complex, a never-ending game of cruel comments and insults that nobody else understood but the two of them. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

"Afraid of ever seeing you again," she finally said, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "I was afraid of encountering you . . . and having to relive everything that I've tried so hard to let go of." It was easy to hear that she was desperately trying to keep her voice even. "Two and a half years of being away from here and being on my own . . . away from you . . . made it easy to get accustomed to everything, but I was never able to actually . . . let it go." She crossed her arms beneath her chest, blinking back the forming tears in her eyes. And then she looked at him, really looked at him. "Because I truly loved you, Dallas. I still do."

Dallas wasn't sure what to make of anything that she divulged to him, but his mind was racing with so many thoughts all at once, and right then, he wanted her to stop talking . . . he wanted to just shut her up before she could say anything else—and before he could register doing it, he leaned over and kissed her to keep her quiet . . . afraid of what else she might say, or reveal, to him.

Come on baby, finish what you started

That ain't no way to treat the broken-hearted

And there's chapter eighteen, y'all! As always, a tremendous thank you for all of the positive feedback! :3