Keith watches Emma knock on the door, and he's almost as nervous as she is. He'd offered to get down with her, but she murmured that she had to do this herself, her resolute manner reminding him of people he's tried to forget.

One of those people is the man who answers the door. It's been a long time since Keith has seen Darry Curtis, once one of his closest friends. The man has gotten old and gray, but he still stands tall. He's got the same angry-parent look too. Poor Emma doesn't know what's she's gotten herself into, and Keith feels a moment of pity for her, but then it's gone.

"You should probably stay away from Emma," he cautions his grandson as he starts up the truck.

Dylan's attention snaps to him from the scene on the porch. "What, why? You were the one telling me to be nice to her."

"And now she's where she belongs."

"But…"

Keith sighs. "Look, I didn't realize until now, but I know her family, okay?"

"So?"

"So, they're not the best sort of people."

Dylan glances around the streets they're passing. "Houses suggest different."

The assumption that the nice, suburban environment means all those who live there are equally nice rubs Keith the wrong way. That's the mentality everyone had about the socs too. Nice house should mean nice kids. Well, they're not all nice, and that's not even the issue.

"Let me tell you about the Curtis family," Keith says. "They'll draw you to them, make you care about them, form bonds so quick you never figure out how they happened. You'll do anything for them, weather any storm at their side. And then they'll decide they don't wanna stick around anymore, and they die or cut you out of their lives a little at a time, because they can't get their shit together!"

He's shouting by the end, and Dylan's eyes are wide as saucers. It's the first time he's seen Keith explode. It doesn't happen often, Keith makes sure of that, but everything is happening all at once. He's back in his hometown, he caught a glimpse of a living memory, and his son is gone. His boy is gone.

"I'm sorry," Keith says, forcing it all down. "Just humor an old man and stay away from them, okay?"

Dylan says nothing, too flabbergasted to speak.

Michael and Meg are swaying on their feet as they walk in the door. They've been driving around all day and haven't slept in hours. Now, they prepare themselves to continue their sentry over the phone, waiting for it to ring.

"I'll make coffee," Meg offers.

He gives a lazy thumbs up and wanders into the study he never uses. No one comes in here. It's a tomb, holding the dead pieces of his heart, waiting for the rest of him to catch up.

Shaking the dark thought from his mind, Mike wipes off a chair before sinking into it, waiting for his daughter to come back.

"This place still off limits?" Meg asks, two mugs in her hands.

He takes one. "Suppose not."

It's not like she's interested in the memories he's buried in here anyway.

She chooses the only other chair available, not bothering with the dust. "Emma isn't dead."

Well, Meg never is one for beating around the bush.

He hopes she's right. He hopes Emma just ran away. But she's fourteen, and the trouble he got into at fourteen… He shivers, feeling like a person he hasn't been in years.

"Stay gold," whispers a voice from beyond the grave.

Sorry, Johnny. I let them take me apart.

He looks over at Meg, looks at the scattered papers and photos, and it occurs to him how little they know of each other. "I ever tell you my name was Ponyboy?"

Meg almost drops her coffee. "What?"

"I changed it later, but I was born Ponyboy Michael Curtis."

"Good call," Meg snarks. "Can't imagine you'd have gotten far as Ponyboy."

I used to like my name, he thinks.

"My dad thought it up."

"Did he hate you?"

No, but he would hate the person his youngest son became. He would hate Mike. Glory, but the name change itself is symbolic, like something from a heavy handed, amateur-hour story.

Always gotta live out my clichés.

"…might kill the kid myself," Meg is saying, rambling like she always does when she's tired.

Even as a baby, she always babbled to fight her sleep. Izzy thought it was cute. Mike is mildly surprised to find it still is.

"Yeah," he agrees, humming and nodding in the right places until Meg wears herself out, coffee forgotten as she curls up and drifts off.

The phone rings at last.

Emma's stomach has fallen somewhere to Tartarus. Her uncle is furious with her for coming here, and the whole trip has been a waste. He doesn't even let her explain why she made the journey in the first place, and she's no closer to finding out what her dad was like before her.

All Uncle Darry does is sit her at the table, mutter about Rachel's uncanny foresight, and call her dad. He even puts them on speakerphone, leaving Emma to wonder why her humiliation demands an audience, but given the dark expression on her uncle's face, she doesn't dare ask.

Hank, the guy who took her uncle's momentary state of shock to introduce himself as her cousin, gives her a look of sympathy but does nothing.

"Hello?" Emma's dad sounds tired.

"Got something for you, Pony."

Mike coughs. "Darry?"

"And company," Uncle Darrel says. "Say hi, Emma."

"Emma?" Mike sounds much more alert now. "You're in Tulsa?"

"She is," her uncle confirms for her. "And now she's gonna explain to both of us why she came here, how she got here, and what in the hell she was thinking."

Emma's hands fidget nervously in her lap as she haltingly recounts her adventures to her highly judgmental audience. She starts with breaking into the forbidden room, reading the old essay, and formulating her poorly thought out journey. She goes on to tell them about the hitchhiking, the creep, Keith and Dylan's rescue. And, as they already know, it ends with her at Darry's doorstep.

"Why?" her father asks when she's done.

"I wanted to know you," she mumbles.

"And the best way you thought to do that was to invade my privacy and travel across the country to gossip about me with my brother?"

His voice is cold, deceptively calm, and she knows whatever he says next will hurt, no matter what defense she gives.

"You don't talk to me."

Her dad scoffs. "Well, that's for sure. And hey, I'm not even angry."

Relief washes over Emma, and her spirit rises from Tartarus to Elysium. Maybe she's read him wrong. Maybe he does care after all, and everything is gonna be fine, even if she probably will get grounded for pulling this stunt.

She believes that for five seconds, before her father adds, "I never even noticed you were gone."

And just like that, Emma's world comes crashing down again.

After Darry abruptly hangs up on his brother, he is at a loss. Hank's ducked out, leaving Darry alone to deal with his emotional, overly sensitive niece. She's crying her eyes out on the sofa. It's making Darry uncomfortable, and more importantly, it's making him wonder how Pony has become so cruel.

But the worst part is, Darry isn't even surprised. The little shit has always had a knack for hitting where it hurts. It figures he would let life hone that skill instead of being a man and rising above it.

That's not to say Darry is blind to the fact that his niece has issues. For starters, she's a dimwit with no backbone. Who runs away without thinking about money? More than that, who hitchhikes in this day and age?

But her eyes are green and hopeful, just like Pony's used to be. Not to mention, she's got the same curious demeanor. And apparently, she inherited her father's impulsiveness too.

Karma's a bitch, ain't it, Pone?

Bitter memories, ones full of worry and fear, spring to his mind. Darry shoves them away. thinking about Joe again, how he hardly had Pony around and turned out better for it. That alone makes the decision for him.

"You told her what?" Meg demands to know.

"You heard me," Mike says, unrepentant even as he packs a bag to go fetch his runaway child.

Meg crosses her arms. "You've been a wreck the entire time she was missing, and the minute she's found, you tell her you didn't even realize she was gone? Just how stupid are you?"

"Not now, Meg."

"Yes, now!" She throws a forgotten glass of water from his nightstand against the wall. "You selfish, petty asshole!"

He stops packing to look at her. "What, and you're so much better, is that it? You're gonna be the nicest big sister ever now that you've seen what it's like to worry about the kid?"

She glares at him, hands clenched at her sides. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't have tried to destroy her."

"All you've ever done is try to destroy her."

"Just me or does that apply to you too?" she throws his earlier words back at him.

He flinches. Trust her to hit where it hurts.

"I try to make her tough."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't feed me that bullshit. You are dead inside. You work until you can't see straight. You hardly eat. You only sleep because of your pills. And when you're not mentally checking out on us, you become an utter bastard, because that's all you know how to be anymore!"

"Meg–"

"You're one of the worst people I know, and you wanna know why? Well, it's not because of any hard lessons you're trying to teach, but because you can't function as a person, much less a parent."

Her eyes are wide when she's done chewing him out. Disrespect is nothing new from her, and neither is brutal honesty, but there's no sarcasm coating this time. This is raw pain, and it leaves her vulnerable, maybe more than it does him.

He wants to say something, yell back at her, tell her to mind her own business, anything. No words come. Where would he even start? Fortunately, he's saved from having to reply when his phone rings, and Meg storms out.

"Darry?" he asks, as soon as he picks up.

"How'd you guess?" his brother says from the other end.

"No one else calls, unless you count Rachel, and I know you do. How's she doing by the way?"

Separation is a two-way street, Dar.

Darry sighs heavily. "Look, I've been thinking, Pony."

Of course he has. He's probably got a whole little game plan in his head. Nice to see some things never change.

"Tell me when I get in."

"You're coming to Tulsa?" Darry sounds skeptical. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

It's not, but when has that ever stopped him?

"What else am I supposed to do, leave my kid there?"

Darry clears his throat. "Actually, yeah. That's exactly what I was thinking. She obviously doesn't wanna see you, and she can at least take the summer to work through her issues, and there are plenty. You even realize how stupid her choices were when she started her little trip?"

"Fuck you!" Pony hisses, feeling like some strange mixture of a protective father and a defensive teenager all over again.

"Hey, I'm not the one who made Emma cry herself to sleep on my couch. Face it, little brother, you're an unfit parent."

What is it with their family and bringing out the big guns? The words ring true, and Mike, Pony, whoever he is, feels them to his core. He is defeated as he glares at his bag, considering what Darry's said. His brother is wrong about many things, but with this, he's right. Emma would be better off without him, without someone who lashes out at the first flare of anger. And if it's just for the summer…

"We going or what?" Meg asks from the doorway, a bag of her own slung over her shoulder.

"You're ready quick."

She smiles bitterly. "I always keep a bag packed."

He should ask her why, but he doesn't wanna know the answer. Either way, It makes no difference.

"You're not coming."

She narrows her eyes. "Why not?"

"Don't wanna buy two plane tickets," he lies.

They have the money for two tickets. But there's a good chance he's gonna spiral once they touch ground in Tulsa. She doesn't need to see that any more than he needs her to witness it.

"I can buy my own."

The set jaw and stiff posture make for a familiar sight, and he can feel the stubbornness radiating from her.

Does that come from me or you, Izzy?

"Pony?" Darry's voice reminds him, he's still on the phone.

"Give me a minute," he grumbles as he turns to reason with Meg. "Don't you have finals?"

"Nope. One I had early, one was a presentation, another was a paper, and I already did my take-home."

"Pretty sure you had five classes this semester."

"Look at you, keeping track of one of your kids for a change. Last class had an optional final, and I scored high enough to skip it."

Choosing to ignore her taunting and running out of excuses, Mike rubs a hand over his face. "Meg, I'm not sure either of us should go. What Darry is saying…"

"Yeah, I heard what he thinks. The man talks loud, but I figure anyone who cut us out until now doesn't get to judge."

"It's not going to be a pleasant trip," he warns.

Meg shrugs. "They never are."

The last trip they took together was to Izzy's funeral in L.A., so he can see Meg's point. Well, at least she's not expecting a nice family reunion.

"Call us a cab." He puts the phone back to his ear and steals some of Meg's defiance for himself. "Darry, I'm coming to Tulsa, and I will see my daughter, or so help me I will kick your ass."

"You can try," Darry growls, disconnecting the call.

Holly listens patiently to Keith as he fills her in on all that's happened since his last call. Her heart aches for him and Dylan both, not to mention that poor girl they helped.

"I just can't do it again," Keith says when he's finished his story. "I can't care about them again."

"But you already do," she points out gently. "You care about Emma at the very least, and whatever her dad and uncle have done, she's not them."

"Yeah," he says absently. "Glory, Holl, this was a bad idea. Never should've come back. I mean, what are the odds?"

The way he clears his throat means he's done talking about it, and Holly changes the subject for him. "Well, I've sold the RV, so I should be there in a couple of days. What're you up to now?"

"Watching Dylan scowl in his sleep."

Holly sighs. They've got one angry kid on their hands. Hopefully that'll change as they adjust to the new environment and everything.

"Did you eat?"

"You think everything can be cured with food," Keith accuses playfully. "Yeah, we got some sandwich stuff from a nearby grocery store. Oh, and speaking of, I might've found us a house."

"Groceries keep those in stock these days?"

He chuckles. "No, but this lady overheard me and Dylan talking about finding a place. Turns out, she's moved in with her boyfriend, so she's trying to sell her house. It's in our price range, so we're gonna go check it out tomorrow."

A weight is lifted from Holly's shoulders. Keith has always had a way of landing on his feet, and she's glad this time is no different. They'll be okay, even if he doesn't see it yet. In the meantime, she distracts him with a long checklist to judge the house by.

She ends with, "And make sure the foundation is solid."

"Always, Holl. Always."

Somehow, she doesn't think he's talking about the house.

I've had a long day, guys, and I'm really debating whether it's smart posting a new chapter right now. I'm tired, and I've been looking at the chapter for too long, but I really wanted to have an update by today. So, I apologize if there are typos, and I hope y'all enjoy regardless!