I've been back for a while but someone reported one of my fanfics, I wasn't allowed to update... the whole entire thing pissed me off since I was proud of that fic but it doesn't matter since I've lost the documents for it, anyway.

Apologies for not updating sooner, this fic is almost over (and I have another one in mind). That being said, nothing you know belongs to me.

"So what d'you do now?" Johnny watched Ponyboy curiously as Ponyboy held the unlit candle in his hand, twisting the wick and looking generally nervous.

"Well... we light it."

"And then I'll be dead."

"... sort of." Ponyboy chanced a glance in Johnny's direction and found his friend staring into space thoughtfully. At long last he seemed to come back to reality and gave Pony a small smile.

"Well c'mon, light it!"

He hardly believed the excitement in his friend's voice was real but none the less Ponyboy took a deep breath and lit the candle. At first nothing happened and Johnny looked disappointed until something seemed to shake the earth and both were thrown back. When Ponyboy opened his eyes, he was no longer at the Cade residence.

"DADDY," Audrey yelled, shaking her father's shoulder and looking for all the world like something had just blown up. Horrified at what might have happened now he threw himself out of bed and barreled down the stairs (not noticing that he lost the weight he had gained in the other reality) stopping in the kitchen to find nothing on fire, no one dying and nothing out of the ordinary except perhaps Iris was sitting at the table already.

Ponyboy let out a relieved sigh and took a seat at the table, not minding that he was still wearing his pajamas and accepting the plate of pancakes Maureen handed him then proceeding to dig in. So nothing was wrong in this reality. Maybe things were back to normal. He felt a pang of guilt, thinking of the fact that his brother and his two friends would no longer be around, which meant their children (the ones he wasn't aware of, in Soda and Dallas' cases) didn't even exist anymore. He had killed them.

"... Pony?"

He looked up at Maureen, catching her worried gaze and realizing he had the syrup bottle in his hand and was proceeding to empty the bottle completely over his breakfast. Giving her what he hoped was a reassuring grin he set the syrup back on the table and continued with the afore-mentioned digging in.

Iris frowned at her father, snatching what was left of the syrup before Audrey could get it which issued a loud wail from the younger girl as she smacked her older sister as hard as she could across the back.

"Watch it you little brat," Iris hissed as she poured the rest of the syrup over her pancakes. When Audrey smacked her again Iris turned to Maureen, scowling and attempting to ignore her sister's cries of "mommy she took all the syrup".

"You're not just gonna let her do that, right mom? I mean... you'll send her up to her room or—"

"Audrey Nicole Curtis," Maureen said in her best 'I'm your mother and therefore and authority figure' voice, "don't hit your sister."

The smug look that had taken over Iris' usually pretty features vanished immediately, replaced with an even more unattractive scowl as she turned her anger upon her mother. "MOM. She just HIT ME—"

"Iris," Ponyboy warned, shooting her a glance that said give it a rest. Despite this argument he felt more relieved than ever. If his daughters were fighting over something as trivial as syrup things had to be back to normal... which meant his deadline was... the thought refused to end itself and he shot out of his chair, hurriedly thanking Maureen for the breakfast as he made his way back upstairs and to his office.

Sitting in the chair made him feel so strange after all this time. It wasn't as if years had passed since he had sat at his desk trying to force his brain to come up with words that created semi-intelligent sentences, but it felt like a few months had passed at least. He stared at the words he had written before, finding his mind hitting the same block it had in the beginning and letting his head drop onto his desk to rest there for a moment before bringing it back up only to find that his brain still hadn't conjured up anything new since he had let his head drop moments before.

Still, his deadline was growing ever closer and he began to write, not caring if anything made sense; the editors could take care of that when he turned in the article. After all, that's what they were there for, wasn't it? They edited and made something sound polished, fresh, and intelligent for human beings who actually managed to read the paper on a weekly basis.

Not that his articles were never intelligent but he always found something changed in them, something that took away from his paper whether it was the way he worded a sentence or perhaps the fact that he had added a description that the editors deemed unneeded for the article to still be readable.

"Everyone's a critic," he mumbled as he pressed the pencil harder to the paper, delighting in the little black dot it created. After wiping away the excess graphite he continued his mindless writing, wishing for all the world that someone could have known about the amazing adventure he had just been on. Someone besides Johnny, that is.

And then suddenly his mind seemed to unlock a secret storage of ideas. They came pouring out, startling him but he put his pencil to the paper and began to scribble furiously, his handwriting getting smaller and sloppier as he went along. First he'd hand write it, then he'd type it, then he'd send it off. It was always the same process...

"Ponyboy?"

Maureen's voice snapped him out of his thoughts for the second time that morning and he turned to look at her, glad to not be equipped with a bottle of syrup. He was startled by her stricken expression and the tears that pooled in her eyes. One spilt over and rolled down her cheek, dripping off her chin and burying itself in the carpet.

His heart plummeted.

"Mo?"

She didn't look at him for a moment, worrying the hem of her shirt and sniffling every once in a while. When at last she looked at him her eyes were red and her face was wet. "Th-That was S-Soda... he s-said Keith an-and Elizabeth... they w-were in an accident and..."

But Ponyboy already knew what was coming. Keith was dead in an accident with his wife and he had killed them like he killed Darry and Steve. He felt sick. Worse than sick, and he just sat there as Maureen attempted to hold in her shuddering sobs.

"When's the funeral?" His own voice was unrecognizable to him, hoarse and emotionless. He wanted to grab at something and break it, to tear it and ruin it to the point where it was unrecognizable. Keith was dead. It was his fault.

"N-Next wuh-week," she whispered before leaving the room, shoulders still shaking and still sniffling every once in a while. The house was quiet. Somewhere down the hall Ponyboy could hear Iris talking into her telephone, mumbling things that sounded a bit strangled. Had she met Keith before? Actually gotten to know him?

Iris' fourth birthday party and her friends were there as well as some of the old "gang" minus Darry for most of it because he had his job to do. It was back when Iris loved her name, when she wasn't going through one of her little "phases" and when she had been more or less content with what was going on in her life.

Keith wandered into the back yard, grinning at his daughter and laughing as she stared at him for a few seconds then screeched "UNCLE KEEF" and threw herself at him. They had had a good relationship considering their similar sense of humor. When Iris used to have a sense of humor, anyway.

How could he have forgotten something like that? Ponyboy let his head drop into his hands and he saw one drop of water smudge the graphite of his article. Then another, and a third, until his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Living On Borrowed Time

The environment at Keith's funeral was strained. His friends and family stood around, stony-faced and trying to make conversation but failing at it. At the front of the room was a coffin, closed to prevent the viewing of the corpse beneath.

A closed coffin, Ponyboy thought, feeling his stomach twist itself into knots, oh Jesus... Keith's little sister, now looking like she was in her mid to late twenties, clutching at the arm of someone who appeared to be her boyfriend or possibly fiancé, judging by the ring on her hand. Perhaps even her husband?

She saw him but neither one attempted to smile in greeting to the other. They couldn't smile; not when Keith was dead. Ponyboy felt a bit of his resolve break at the memories that were continually pouring into his brain, plaguing his thoughts.

He hadn't slept well in a long time.

Some movement caught his eye as Darry slowly made his way into the room, looking unusually upset for how much he had griped about Keith when he was still alive. Then again, neither Keith nor Darry really had any "best friend". Neither had Dally, for that matter, unless you counted Johnny who was more like a little brother but... Keith and Darry had been friends in the beginning, hadn't they?

"This' my friend Keith," Darry said, motioning to the rusty-haired youth beside him who gave Mrs. Curtis a big grin.

"Howdy Darry's mom!"

Of course.

Keith had been Darry's good friend at one time.

He stayed around for a bit longer, looking around at the candles in the church and thinking Two-Bit wouldn't have wanted this it's too serious. Eventually Jess, Keith's sister, began to sob, the sound making the sadness almost a tangible thing. She clung to the man, sobbing loudly into his shoulder and he patted her on the back, trying to console her.

Tears began to fill his eyes and he blinked hurriedly, looking anywhere except where people happened to be milling about. He couldn't stay here, not when it was his fault in the first place that Keith was dead and he didn't even have the candles.

Ignoring Maureen's questions he hurried out of the church, walking out into the cold rain that was hardly appropriate for remembering someone as vibrant as Keith Matthews. He stopped when he had rounded a corner and sat down heavily on a bench, rain making everything hard to see through his glasses and the water mingling with the tears that fell from his eyes.

"You are not happy, Ponyboy Curtis?"

It was the woman from the candle stand, an umbrella shielding her from the rain. She looked no older than when he had first seen her, and he tried to glare at her, to force some of his anger at the person that had caused the entire thing, but he couldn't.

"You should not have played with time," she said quietly, staring at him with eyes much older than she appeared to be. "It is not always kind in return."

"I... I d-don't know what t'do," he mumbled, sniffling and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his best jacket.

"There is only one more road you must take," the woman murmured, lifting his chin so she could look at him. Like his mother did when he was younger. "I am terribly sorry."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Ponyboy staring up at absolutely nothing and hearing the voices of his friends and family as they approached him.

"You okay, Pone?" Darry asked, his own voice sounding choked as he rubbed his younger brother on the back.

"Fine," he replied quietly, catching Johnny's questioning look and shaking his head in response before getting up. "I just... have t'do something..."

Everyone was oddly silent then, the only sound being the cars and the rain hitting the sidewalk in big drops. Then it seemed almost simultaneous. A car sped by, splashing the six with water and Johnny exclaimed "you selfish bastard!"

"What d'you want me t'do Johnny? Huh? I'm not gonna let... let Keith die because of me!"

"You're being a martyr, that's what you're doing," Johnny yelled, taking a step toward him. "Stop playing around! You said you'd fix things, why aren't things fixed yet?!"

"What the fuck—" Dallas began, looking at the two with complete confusion on his face.

"He's fucking with time!"

"... maybe you should go back inside, Johnny..."

"I'm being serious," Johnny said bitterly, shrugging off Soda's hand as the middle Curtis placed it on his shoulder. Everyone had their eyes on Ponyboy now, who shook his head.

"Just an idea for a book I'm writing," he mumbled, not sure if he ever wanted to reveal what he had done to anyone but Johnny, who would probably take it the best out of all of them (and if this was the best reaction, he didn't want to see the others). "Y'know... concept of our life being light and stuff."

Steve let out a nervous laugh and patted Johnny on the shoulder. "Wow... almost had us convinced there, kid... uh... Jonathan."

Living On Borrowed Time

That night Ponyboy made dinner for his wife and children, and all the while his heart pounded furiously in his chest. Ravioli, bread and salad. He talked with Audrey and Iris and neither daughter tried to bicker, both sensing something was about to change. They sat down and watched a movie together, plotless and hardly one that grownups would enjoy, but he enjoyed every minute of it.

"Dad?" Iris peered up at her father as she sat in bed and he stood over her, having just said goodnight.

"Hm?"

"... everything's gonna be okay, right?" Her question was so innocent compared to the tough image she had thrown up for quite some time now.

Ponyboy gave his oldest daughter a reassuring smile. "Yeah, Iris."

She didn't object to the use of her real name as he left her room and closed the door behind him. Audrey was already asleep by the time he made it to her room and he pressed his lips to her forehead, turning out the night light as he left and headed for his bedroom.

That night he made love to Maureen, whispering his love for her in her ear, pressing his lips to lips, her eyes, her nose... anywhere he was able. He kissed away her tears and held her when she cried over the death of Keith, his own heart breaking. When she was sleeping in his arms he slipped out of bed and padded downstairs.

It was as if they were waiting for him, lined up on the kitchen table and glowing brightly all except one but even that seemed vibrant. Alive. It pulsed in his hand as he inspected it.

This was it.

Darry looked up from the paper, and Barbara (who had stayed home with the baby) poked her head out of the kitchen, asking him if he had felt something. The eldest Curtis was unable to answer but his eyes widened in horror and that was all the answer she needed.

Steve let the beer slip from his hand, the alcohol splashing all over a particularly tough-looking patron of the bar. He barely felt the punch to his jaw.

Dallas' sharp intake of breath was in no way related to the women he happened to be sleeping with. She looked like Sylvia... every girl did now, and she looked at him with that predatory smile, convinced it was her that had brought this gasp. It was fear, though, for the first time in many years that made him start so violently.

Soda sat straight up in bed, causing Winifred to sit up next to him, rubbing her eyes and asking if everything was alright. It wasn't late, but he hadn't been feeling well after the funeral and had gone to sleep early. He felt tears in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and he couldn't tell his wife what was wrong.

After tucking Hazel in Johnny sat in his bedroom, looking out at the city he had never really left, and he dropped his head into his hands.

As all this happened, Ponyboy lit the candle.