Dallas Winston didn't have to try and be strong, he just was. For the longest time it was thought that nothing could break him. In New York, he had watched people get jumped or murdered, and hadn't even bat an eyelash. Sometimes he was the one doing the killing. Still, he remained unaffected as the blood soaked into his clothing. Dallas had hardened beyond the point of caring. He didn't give a damn about anything but self preservation until he met Johnny Cade.

He wasn't sure why, but he was drawn to the dark-haired boy who shied away from everyone. There was something that he saw in Johnny that was absent in himself. Was it innocence? No, the look in this boy's eyes suggested he had been through things no child should endure. Hope, maybe? That couldn't be it; he had heard Johnny's mutterings about wanting to kill himself. Somebody that still had any scrap of hope left wouldn't think about those kinds of things. Whatever it was, it had Dallas hanging off of every shy word that passed the boy's lips. In no way would he ever admit that, though.

For the entire gang it was easy to see that Johnny absolutely adored the juvenile delinquent from NYC. His big brown eyes lit up when Dallas walked in the room without fail. If Dallas was around, the boys could get more than five words out of him. It was obvious that Johnny respected him, and wanted to be respected by him as well. He had told Ponyboy once or twice that he just wanted Dallas to be proud of him. The blonde in question had overheard this and felt his heart seize. Dally was incredibly proud of Johnny; he never cried out when getting beaten and always pulled through during a rumble. No amount of fear could hold him back, even though it constantly ate away at his nerves. He had been tempted to run in and hug the boy. But that would ruin his entire image, so he restrained himself with much difficulty.

This bond that they had, this kinship, was more than anyone could possibly imagine. It was something each of them clung to desperately with everything in them. So when they were forcibly torn apart, one of them was bound to snap. Surprisingly enough it was Dallas.

All he knew was that Johnny was dead. His best friend, his brother, and the most important person in the world to him had just died in front of him. The last words Johnny spoke were to Ponyboy too, not him. Bitterness and sorrow coiled in his stomach before wrapping its dark tendrils around his already blackened heart. Slowly, his body became numb, just as Johnny's had only moments before. Dally could barely feel it when his knuckles collided with the dry wall in the hospital room. Nor could he feel how much his legs burned as he tried to escape the cops after robbing a grocery store. He was running on a deadly combination of angst and adrenaline.

Dallas looked over his shoulder and skid to a halt under the flickering light of the nearest lamp post. Cold metal burned against his flesh as he twisted and he remembered the unloaded gun in his waistband. He whipped it out with only one thing on his mind: a quick end. The police shouted something that was quickly drowned out by the sound of rounds being fired in quick succession. Behind him he could hear the gang talking, gasping, and he'd be damned if he didn't hear one of them whimper. It didn't matter to him though because the bullets piercing his body would let him see Johnny again. His body crumpled to the ground and he grinned. This was perfect. He was actually quite proud for planning this whole scene out and watching it go just as he wanted. Now all he could do was wait, hope, and pray that he'd open his eyes only to be greeted with Johnny's smiling face again.

Imagine his disappoint when he woke up to the sound of a heart monitor beeping and a quiet conversation between whoever the hell was situated at his bedside. His icy blue eyes narrowed into a glare and he turned to look at the two figures. Ponyboy was scolding Two-Bit for messing with Dallas's IV line.

A low growl escaped his throat. "The fuck do you think you're doing Two-Bit Mathews? Keep your grubby little paws off of that stuff, it's important."

The boy who had only hours before tried to commit suicide by cop was reprimanding his friend for playing with the thing keeping him alive. Let it never be said that Dallas Winston didn't appreciate irony.

"Y-You're awake!" Ponyboy squeaked, blushing at the pitch of his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "How are you feeling, Dally?"

"I feel like I just got shot six times."

"Oh. Well, they did hit some vital organs, but the doctor fixed you right up. You have to go to court once you're outta here though…"

Dallas waved his hand dismissively. "No big deal, I've been to court so many times the judge knows me by name."

"Yeah," Ponyboy said with a weak smile. His grey (even though they were green he insisted quite vehemently that they were grey) eyes landed back on Two-Bit, who was now fascinated by a pair of latex gloves the nurses left sitting by Dallas's bed. He pulled them on and tugged on a facial mask before striking a very dramatic pose.

"You think I could be a good doctor?" he asked, both of them knowing he was grinning like the Cheshire cat behind that mask.

"I wouldn't let you operate on me even if my life depended on it," Dallas deadpanned. Two-Bit laughed, stripping himself of the gloves.

"I wouldn't either, that's for sure."

The conversation dwindled into a comfortable silence that was only interrupted by the constant whirring of machines. Dallas looked around and sighed. It was like a giant white elephant had taken up residence in the room with them. I guess I'm the one who has to bring it up, he thought. Neither of his friends wanted to mention what had happened earlier that night and he didn't blame him. He was less than enthusiastic about how necessary it was for them to talk this out. Fuck feelings.

"Look guys, about Johnny-"

He was cut off by the slapping of sneakers on disinfected tiles and harsh panting as Sodapop bound into the room, cheeks flushed. His mouth opened and closed like he was a fish out of water and he kept sputtering words incoherently.

Ponyboy got up quickly and held his shoulders. "Soda, what is it?"

"It's…it's Johnny, he's stable! Well, as stable as they can get him but he's alive!"

Everyone lapsed back into silence, but each of them were having distinctly different reactions. Ponyboy looked like he was about to cry, and Two-Bit had a goofy smile plastered on his face. Sodapop was still huffing and puffing from running here from wherever he had been before. But Dallas was scowling just as darkly as ever, if not more menacing.

"What are you talking about? Johnny's dead. I saw him go with my own two eyes, Soda. Now don't you walk in here and think it's alright to mess with me for shits and giggles." Anyone else would have retracted their previous statements and agreed with him just because of how murderous his tone was. But not Soda. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall.

"I ain't messing with you, Dal. I'm being serious. Yeah, Johnny's heart stopped, but it was just one of those near death experience things like on TV. He's alive. You ran out, then Two-Bit and Pony left, and they were going to pull the plug on him but then he started groaning about his back hurting. The poor nurse thought he was a zombie. But he's alive. I swear on our Lord's good name that he's alive and breathing."

This would be the second time ever that any of the gang had seen the infamous Dallas Winston cry. Tears clouded his vision and he wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his hand. Still, the salty droplets cascaded down his cheeks. A choked sound came from the back of his throat, like he was trying to pass a sob off as something else.

"You're lying, that can't happen," Dallas said, not wanting get his hopes up. He hung his head so they wouldn't see the torrent of tears that refused to stop flowing.

A new voice added to the mix, saying, "He's not lying, Dally. Johnny's okay."

He looked up to see Darry blocking the doorway, all muscle and a stoic demeanor. The look on his face told Dallas he wasn't kidding. This he could believe; Darry wouldn't joke about something as serious as this. He was more than aware of how much Dally cared about Johnny. In Darry's mind, Dallas losing Johnny would be like him losing Sodapop or Ponyboy.

Dallas steeled his nerves and set his jaw. "I wanna see him."

Darry's expression softened slightly as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You're stuck in bed for at least three weeks. If you try to exert yourself you'll start bleeding like a stuck pig. Johnnycakes agreed to do physical therapy though, so maybe one day he'll be able to come and see you. Nothing is for sure right now."

All Dallas could do was nod and dry his eyes, not trusting himself to speak anymore. If he did he was sure he'd burst into tears again. This time he probably wouldn't be able to stop himself, too. Not that it'd mean much to him anyways. Johnny was alive, and that was all that really mattered.

Well, here's my first post ^^ I plan on making this multi-chapter, but if you want any more I'm gonna need some reviews. I know, how mean of me. Anyways, I hope everybody is in character. I tried really hard to make them seem realistic. Lemme know how I did! :3