Hey y'all, I'm back from the grave! I thought you'd all enjoy an epilogue if you were wondering what became of our duo. I hope you enjoy! Further note at the end.

I hope you guys feel happy with the (extended) end!

:)

May, 1987. The sun shone on Tulsa, Oklahoma as it usually did, making the colors of everything a bit gray. Years of light beating down mercilessly did that thing to a town. A taxi pulled from the curb after dropping its lone passenger at a plain house, a bit worn but in the best way. A smile tugged at the lips of the middle-aged woman, a crisp and respectable thirty-eight-going-on-thirty-nine. She was home, but only slightly. A pair of heads greeted her at the door. They were already fifty, but looked so much younger.

"Hey there, Peter, Clara." She said softly. "Ready to retire early?"

Peter laughed. "Ready as we'll ever be. I think Florida's gonna be a nice change. Get more rain for gardening, that's for sure." He leaned back in the half broken wicker rocking chair, gazing at the wilting flowers in the garden, and took a sip from his ice tea. "I hope Mark'll be okay with his parents so far."

She took a polite seat on the steps, setting her suitcase on the porch. "Isn't he in college? He's been away for quite a long time. He's what, twenty four?"

"Twenty five." Clara corrected. "I don't know… All his letters seem homesick, even after being in school for so many years. Even after graduating. Oklahoma City is such a big place."

"So is Tulsa." Diane assured. "You know he'll be writing, and now that you're getting a better phone when you get there, he can call you there."

The older woman nodded slowly. She'd been on edge for ages. "How's traveling been?" She asked softly, almost changing the subject.

Diane looked out into the street, memories flashing through her head. "Good." She said idly. "I still got mom with me."

She took the necklace from around her neck, handing it to her cousin. On it was a vial, a cross etched in the glass. Inside, ashes. She'd worn the pendant for years.

"When's the date again?" Peter looked up, solemn but understanding.

"May 24, 1965." She answered plainly. "Twenty two years ago next weekend. You leave that Friday, don't you?"

They paused. Already dates had begun slipping, but they couldn't stay another day. The plane tickets were booked and in hand. A heavy air of silence hung over them. The subject was not brought back up. The short week came and went with little fanfare.

She went through some of her old things, happy memories, sad memories. Little had been touched from her room, just dusted periodically. Her mother's room had the same fate. Sitting on her bed, she could still see shards of vinyl in the floorboards, pebbles stuck on the windowsill. A room full of so many emotions they dripped from the walls.

Her cousins left on time and Diane Carter was alone once more.

She took a walk.

Tulsa had changed, but only slightly. The memories were fresh.

The old DX was abandoned, litter lining the pavement. It made her smile a bit though, as she saw one familiar face smiling down from a billboard, advertising an inappropriately named car service shop. Of course he would, she thought. Randle the asshole, always pulling something.

She'd seen one other familiar name, but on the covers of novels. Admittedly, she had more than a few stashed away, unread, for the memories. That kid went places alright. One of his novels had gotten pretty famous, based on an essay he'd written after the... incident. It ended up as required reading for a few schools. She was proud.

The news of Soda was only learned after a hastily written letter. The third funeral she attended in Tulsa. Her unlucky number.

The last of the gang had dropped from her radar. Darry had been mentioned in a few of the novels, so at least he was alive and well. The very last member eluded her though. She was almost on the fence about seeing him again.

She continued walking.

The lot was paved over, a house placed on top. It was cookie cutter brand, all 1975 chique, average upper middle class family glamour. Soc, she thought bitterly, I bet a Soc got a loan from their Soc parents and are raising the next generation Soc's right now. Let 'em have that filthy lot. It felt like an open wound to forget what happened there. So she didn't. She doubted anyone close enough to the gang would forget.

The park was the same, at least, though had a few updates to play structures and a distinct lack of a pool. She supposed it was the changing times.

God, the memories there. She had to close her eyes a moment, leaning on a tree. Her nails dug into the bark as she remembered that it was this tree where she first met him. Where she saw him with her.

Looking up, she shook her head. It'd been so long, and he still hurt her. It still stung what he did. What came of her. If her mother were to see her now, she'd either tell her to suck it up and knock back a bottle of wine or try and chastise her for dwelling on her sins. Then again, she gave up on Jesus long ago.

She headed into town.

Diane found herself wandering down main street as she wandered through her thoughts. It wasn't too busy, being a weekday. Everyone at work, which reminded her that she needed a job. But she brushed that thought away for a bit. She saw something that piqued her interest.

The drive in stood like a relic, showing movies as it always did. Even the hole in the fence remained, albeit with signs of repair attempts. Young greasers would always find a way. Young greasers that would never have quite the same experience, but had almost the same. It was the same thing all over every city in America. The war of the upper class arrogance and lower class humility.

She stared, peering through the chain links, fingers knit with the metal. It was the setting of her first date. She wished it was her last. She took the thought back. She didn't actually regret it. It was a good night. And she witnessed a couple soc's get their asses handed to them. She chuckled. If only she had that same spunk.

A tap on her shoulder startled her from her thoughts. She turned her head.

"You lost, ma'am?"

The question came from a man with rusty hair, slightly receding. He was a little scruffy, messy clothes, reeked a bit of cheap beer. But the face was all too familiar. He'd gained a beer belly, a look of age but never lost that expression of mischief.

"Think of the devil…" Diane whispered, awestruck. It was him of every person in that town. Fate hated her sometimes. "Keith Mathews, is that you?"

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Won't even call me Two-Bit anymore, will you, Di?" He teased. "Guess you aren't lost. Where've you been all these years? I've missed you, you know?"

She shook her head, grinning. "We're both almost forty, and we broke up twenty two years ago."

"A guy never forgets his favorite." He chuckled, before flushing and looking away sheepishly. His tone became a bit more serious. "And I know I fucked up with you. With everything… I found my jacket that day in the mud and I knew… I just knew."

She sighed. "You really hurt me that night. But I can't hold grudges that much. Nobody can, Two."

He beamed. "Oh, now you'll use it? Guess you still like me a little, dontcha?"

She rolled her eyes, pushing him playfully. "You wish. I moved to Chicago, then New York, L.A. for awhile. Nice places, I guess. I couldn't settle down, just couldn't. I got the perfect opportunity to come home when I heard Pete 'n Clara were going south to retire. Let me have the house as long as I pay utilities. But, uh, I don't hold those feelings anymore, if you're hoping for that."

He shrugged. "Can't you at least go out to friendly lunch with me?" He asked.

Diane looked up at the sky, then her watch. She didn't want to go home. It was a good time for a late lunch anyway.

He began to walk, lighting a cigarette, and to his surprise, she followed suit.

"What?" She asked. "A girl picks up dirty habits sometimes."

He looked her up and down. "Well, I guess you're right… What would your mother say, though?"

She paused, face melting into a scowl. "You know exactly what happened to her."

He stopped himself. "Oh, God, I-I'm sorry." He said quickly.

She shook her head, extinguishing the cigarette on the wall of some brick building. After all the years, she couldn't finish one. "Don't be. We all knew she'd get far enough drinking that she'd do something stupid. Never thought she'd take a shotgun to the face though."

The air between them was tense. He dropped his cigarette and extinguished it as well. He leaned against the wall, and she followed suit.

"Well," She murmured quietly. "It gets a little hard to forget something like that when they do it in front of you, you know? When they give you this whole slurred spiel about why they're doing this, this long monologue on their life and their choices. She said to me, 'Diane Carter, you be a good girl, alright? Your daddy and I are gonna be watching over you. Thank God every day for me, okay?' and she blew her head off. God those stains were hell to get out of the wall. They're still there, you know. Real faint. I had to put a painting over the wood."

She looked away. It felt like she'd been shot through the chest.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't talked to anyone about this, have you?"

"No. And I was the only one there."

"Yeah… That her? 'Round your neck?"

Diane lifted the necklace up, looking at it in the light. "Yeah. It is." She got off the wall, and he did too.

They continued walking.

"So," He said. "What's come of you?"

She chuckled, elbowing him. "You first, beer belly."

Two-Bit rolled his eyes, but shrugged. "Well, never ended up with that broad you saw me with. Found her with her panties down with some soc. Karma came back to kill me." He answered. "I dropped out and worked with Steve and Soda a few years, and finally met this one girl. She was a dream…"

It was almost wistful how he said it.

"We got married when she was nineteen and I was twenty. We even had a few kids, a pair of twin boys and a girl."

His smile turned from a smile to a scowl. "But then she started saying I wasn't making enough money. I drank too much. That I was dumb. She divorced me in eighty two. Our oldest were thirteen, and she took them all. She ended up with this rich businessman, and she sends me letters with pictures of the kids every two months. California whore…"

She let the story sink in. She bit her lip. "Better spill the beans, then."

He gave her a puzzling look. "What?"

"Those three… They have a half sister." She admitted. "Remember that night, just before we broke up?"

"Yes…" He said slowly, realizing what she was getting at.

Diane gulped. "Well, I got pregnant. I should've given her up for adoption or met one of those back alley doctors, but I didn't. My mom didn't even know she was gonna be a grandma, I didn't even know I was gonna be a mom, I was barely a month along. The funeral for Dal and Johnny, I wore that long coat for a reason. I was somehow able to hide it, though. Nobody suspected a thing when I took a long week off school. Her name's Sandy and she's going to Columbia University.

"Peter and Clara raised her while I finished up school, went to community college. They loved her, like she was their own baby… She replaced the one they lost. God I was so shallow to go out while they were in the hospital that day. Anyway… Once I graduated, I moved back to Detroit for a little bit. I got an apartment and worked as a secretary for some wicket company. Got fired when a kid got too over his head. Moved to Chicago.

"I worked numbers for some shipyard for a few years. Company shut down, moved to New York city and got a good job until Sandy was old enough to go away. She's twenty one and she's going to be a dentist. I moved home. I'm home now."

She finished with a huff, extinguishing the cigarette she'd lit when she began to speak. She finished this one. Her lungs felt heavy along with her heart.

They'd walked past the diner at this point. They'd wandered in a loop, stopped at the park. She sat down on the ground, not caring. Two-Bit joined her. It was quiet for a long time.

"Di?" He said, quiet and out of character for him.

She didn't look up. "Yes?" She replied.

"Do… You have a picture of her?"

She pulled her wallet from her purse, and pulled out a faded polaroid. "High school graduation." She murmured, handing it to him.

He looked it over, tracing a calloused finger over it. "She looks a lot like you."

"And you." She chuckled.

He cracked a smile. "We're real fucked up, aren't we?" He asked.

Diane chuckled. It turned into actual laughter for a minute or so, before she calmed herself. "I guess we are." She said, gasping, somewhere between laughing and crying. "I've been so mad for years and I didn't know why. I had so much death and sadness around me, I guess I was lost. I was scared. I hated myself for things I couldn't change, but look at me. I survived being a single mom for how long? I made it."

He sighed, pulling her in for a half hug. She didn't pull away.

"Two, I don't love you anymore." She sighed.

He nodded. "I don't think I love you anymore either." He added.

She smiled. "But do you think we can still be friends?"

"I think we can."

"Screw up."

"Asshole."

"Always."

Hi so my name i t. Anyway, this is the real wrap to TRTP (formerly known as Petrichor.) I hope you all feel a little more complete knowing that not all was terrible. If you want to ask any questions about the making of this story, or about the characters in general, feel free to private message me!

Also, I hope to rewrite the story in the next few months, so look forward to that if you're still attached to it haha!

Love, Cat (The Author)