I do not own the Outsiders!

Dallas felt himself break. It felt like all of his ribs had just been broken; cutting his heart and breaking his insides. He couldn't breath; couldn't move. All he could do is look down at Johnny, his Johnny. He can't be dead. He's my age. He's not dead just tired. As much as he tried to convince himself he knew it wasn't the truth.

Suddenly he needed to get out of there. He turned and ran out of the room. Rage filled him. He couldn't see, couldn't breath. As he stumbled down the hall he lost it an punched the wall.

He hit it once. How dare Johnny's parents try to make him worthless. He hit it again. How dare Johnny leave him. He hit it again. How dare the world turn there backs on Johnny because of where he lives. His knuckles were split. Everything hurt. He hit it one final time before darting outside. How dare Johnny leave! Johnny was a good kid.

Dally blamed himself. He should have went inside faster. He should have pushed Johnny out. He should have died, not Johnny.

As his run turned into a jog, and his jog turned into a stumble, he eventually fell down. He felt tears come. For once in his life he let them come.

He saw a middle age couple on the other side of the sidewalk watch him as they passed by. He almost laughed. Almost. He imagined what they saw. A dirty, broken down, beaten no good teen greaser crying on a sidewalk. He got up numb and looked around.

Surrounding him were massive mansions. Ones people like him only dream of. He felt his feet leading him away from the socs territory automatically as he fell back into he's trance.

When he looked up again he was in a store. He looked around. There were some kids his age laughing leaving the store. The store clerk was glancing at the clock feverishly. Probably wanting his shift to end. Who gave him the right to want time to go faster when Johnny's had run out! He ripped the magazine in frount of him. The clerk said something about paying for it. Anger rose inside him. Oh he's asking for it. His feet led him to the counter. He waited for the clerk to look up than he pulled the gun from his pocket.

"Give me the money." It scared him how loud his voice was compared to the silence everywhere. He saw a look of fear past though the clerk's eyes. Good think about how in a second your life can end.

When the clerk made no show of moving he repeated himself, louder this time and motioned to the unloaded gun, threatening him. This time the clerk emptied the cash register quickly, handing Dally the money.

As Dally pocketed the money and ran for the door he heard a loud bang and pain tore through his side. He ignored it and quickened his pace, letting his feet carry him away.

Later he found himself in an alley. He shook his head. He didn't remember coming here. He checked he side. The bullet skimmed him. It's was bleeding a lot, would scar but he'd live. He'd live and Johnny was dead. Dread filled him. The next few minutes were a dream.

He'd phoned Darry but hadn't heard a word he'd said. Darry said that he knew Johnny was dead. Good Pony got home.

Suddenly he hated himself. All the rage he had was a at him. He shouldn't have left Pony! What if something happened! He would be dead like Johnny! He was a worthless nothing. He cant even protect the ones he cares about that's alive. He didn't deserve to live. Then it hit him. It was all his fault! He should be dead not Johnny!
He felt a pain like he'd never felt before. He needed to fix this.

He ran as fast as he could waving he's unloaded gun. He saw the cop cars infront of him. He started shouting. Waving he's arms. Screaming. Anything to get them to do it.

He heard them shoot and a sharp pain shot up his leg and he fell. He dropped his gun but looked at the cops and screamed at them to kill him. He felt tears stream down his face. A shot to the leg wouldn't kill him. He pushed himself up and even more pain. He heard distant yelling but ignored it. He screamed the cops an begged them to do it. He kept getting up until he couldn't. He saw the gang running towards him. He crawled towards them, they shouldn't have seen this. I'm so sorry was the last thing he thought as he closed his eyes and stopped fighting off the blackness. He let it over come him.

. . .

Don't shoot!
He's just a kid!
Nooooo!
Stop!

Screams filled the air. Officer Wilson lifted he's gaze from the suspect they just shot down.

He looked to see a gang of greasers run to the fallen body. He shook his head. Probably one of their gang he thought sourly.

He took his weapon back out of his holster. He yelled at them to stop. Not one of them even looked up. He ran towards them just as the all surrounded the corpse.

"Put your hands up!" He ordered. After a few seconds they finally glanced up. His thoughts of them changed instantly.

The oldest one looked to be no older than twenty-three.

As they looked up with tear stained faces one looked at him and said emotionlessly, "Or what? You'll shoot us too? You cops into shooting kids now?"

For the first time in the night Jake Wilson looked down at the victim of their guns. There lying there was the body of Dallas Winston.

He knew Dally. Picked him up on multiple occasions, every cop has. He was a bad kid, but he was a kid, he didn't deserve to die. . . Dread filled him.

One of the teens that was kneeling beside him was shaking his head slowly in disbelief and kept muttering "He can't be dead. He's too young. He can't be dead..."

Suddenly one of his comrades moved forwards to cuff the young men.

"Hands In the air!"

"Wait" he said quietly.

"What?" His partner looked at him in disbelief.

"I said stop."

"What?" he repeated, looking even more confused.

"I said to fucking stop!" he yelled at him while falling to the ground before the young delinquit.

"Go call for paramedics!" Jake ordered while beginning to perform CPR on Dallas.

"What?" My partner repeated once again.

"Go call..."

"Yeah I know what you said!" He inturrupted angerly,"But why? He's dead? It doesn't matter if..."

"IF WHAT?" I screamed back, looking up from Dally for the first time since I decided that his life was worth saving. "IF HE DIES! IF YOUR SON WAS IN HES POSITION WOULD YOU BE GIVING UP ON HIM OR WOUlD YOU TRY TO HELP HIM!" I screamed.

"Well my son would never..." he began but I cut him off.

"Yeah but what if?" I asked in a softer tone. "If Jesse," I inputed his son in hopes of hitting home, "was in Dallas' position, what would you do?"

He didn't answer. Instead he headed off in the direction of the squad car.

I continued CPR adding short breaths between every few pumps.

Suddenly I looked up feeling new presence beside me. I saw a boy of probably eighteen or nineteen pulling his shirt off and pressing it to a wound on Dally's chest.

Jake relized he must of let his emotion of shock very evident on his face because he replied quickly "Keepin' his heart beating won't help if he bleeds out."

He nodded understandedly before returning his stare to the dying boy in frount of him, but not before I noticed a couple of the other boys doing the same as the first one. Maybe they are smarter than we give them credit for...

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes we spent doing everything in our power wanting for the ambulance.

Finally the faint wails of the ambulance grew stronger until they came to a screeching halt by us.

As they were shoved out of the way by paramedics everyone watched in a numb state.

Darry struggled to make sentances out of the odd word he caught as they put Dally on a stretcher and loaded him in the ambulance, leaving just as fast as they came.

He looked at the stained pavement were Dally had laid minutes before. Even the untouchable had a breaking point, and Dally just reached his.

Please be okay, he silently prayed to whatever was up there as he wiped a tear the slowly mingled down his face.

. . .

Referbished version! Tell me if you see anymore mistakes I missed :D And thanks to North Yorkshire Brit who pointed out the semicolon stuff, never woulda found it without you :)