A/N: This is AU, completely and utterly. I have taken the script of Ocean's 11 and chucked it together with all our favourite characters. Everybody will get a part.

I am not and will not abandon my other story. The reason this slightly stupid thing came into being is that with exams, stress of moving, and recently discovering I need to get my wisdom teeth out (I'm scared of surgery) I am quite stressed and everybody is coming out OOC in there. I'm having a break until I get less stressed, nothing more. I wrote this purely for kicks – I needed a pick me up.

Disclaimer: I don't own characters from the Outsiders or plot from Ocean's. Please don't sue.

X X X X

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Darry replied, managing to sound warm and friendly despite the early hour and sleepless nights.

"Please state your name for the record."

Darry clasped his hands before him and looked around the room in which he found himself sitting. It was large, probably so the person being interviewed – him – would become flustered at the sheer empty space, broken only by the scrutiny of the three officials sitting before him. What a joke. They'd have to do better to catch him out on his one chance to get out. "Darrel Ocean," he said coolly.

"Thank you, Mr Ocean," said the woman sitting in the centre seat of the three-chair long row. "The purpose of this meeting is to determine whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence schemes and frauds. What can you tell us about this?"

Darry gave the tiniest shrug of the shoulders, not big enough to look uncaring, simply a subtle move that showed he was being honest. He was good at what he did. "As you say, ma'am, I was never charged."

The lady shuffled her papers slightly. "Mr Ocean, what we're trying to find out is: was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason why you simply got caught this time?"

Darry fiddled with his fingers slightly, putting on a slightly more vulnerable front than before. He wanted them to believe this subject was difficult for him to discuss, not that he was lying. "My wife left me," he said. It was true that he was saddened by this, deeply so. He had loved her, but he knew one of her reasons for leaving was that he was not good at showing his emotion. He could fake emotion, oh yes, he was good at that; but when it came to true feelings, he had as tough an exterior as Bob Sheldon. Bob… he knew Bob. He knew him well. "I was upset," he continued in the same tone as before. He certainly did not want anger to show on his face, so he avoided his thoughts. "I got into a self destructive pattern."

"If released," said a man on the woman's right, "is it likely you would fall back into a similar pattern?"

Now Darry let a tiny, soft smile creep onto his face. "She already left me once. I don't think she'll do it again just for kicks."

He watched as the officials glanced at each other. Still got it, his mind whispered. He shushed it. "Mr Ocean, what do you think you would do if released?" asked the third official, the one who had been silent all this time.

Darry considered for a moment. "I don't know. How much do you guys make a year?"

X X X X

"Ocean, Darrel."

Darry stepped up to the counter and accepted his possessions from the guard, signing the form thrust under his nose that certified their release. "This came today for you," said the guard, placing an envelope on top of the folded suit. "Rest'll be forwarded to your parole officer."

The guard still standing behind Darry read the envelope over his shoulder. If there was one thing Darry wouldn't miss about prison, it was the invasion of personal space. "Those your lawyers?" he asked the man he was guarding, referring to the return address on the envelope.

"My wife's," Darry clarified as he slit the letter open with a nail and read the contents.

"What's it say?"

He supposed he could get angry at the guard, but he had learned long ago it was better to play it cool. And the information the letter contained certainly did not warrant a burst of anger. "I'm a free man," he said.

X X X X

Stupid bow tie… he never had learned how to do these things. He gave up, leaving it hanging around his neck as he toyed with the final part of his outfit, deciding whether or not to put it on.

His wedding ring.

Soda would probably kill him if he asked how to do a bow tie again, and he certainly wouldn't want to see Darry with it hanging on his neck like this. Oh well, Darry thought as he walked swiftly along the corridor towards the waiting doors, for once not barred to him. He slipped on the ring. Soda didn't even know he was out yet, and Darry knew he wouldn't bother checking in with the prison all the time on the off chance Darry would get out on parole, or escape. But at this level, you don't just escape. You escape, you get hunted for the rest of your days. You wait a little longer, bide your time, and you'll get to feel what Darry was feeling at this moment. The breeze tickled his skin in a way he had not appreciated for a long time, not since… not since she left him. It was an awful, overcast day, but there were no walls any longer. Darry could go where he liked.

And speaking about Soda…

Jail had given Darry the one thing he had never had enough of: time. He had had time to think, time to formulate several plans. He was not going to spend his time idly, and he was not going to linger any longer in the breeze. He began walking.

He would find Soda, kill him for not writing or visiting, apologize, then put a plan into action. He had several now; all he needed was to decide which would work best, and he could only do that after consulting with someone who had been free the past couple of months. Soda would know what was going on in the world, and Darry knew he would not have been idle for long.

But first, he had a few quick stops for personal benefits.

X X X X

Darry took a deep breath. Forget his previous thoughts – the true scent of freedom was not a soft breeze whispering through the trees. It was smoke wafting around the roof of a low-ceilinged room, it was the alcohol that permeated the air. He stepped up to a green table and handed the man several hundred-dollar bills, taking in return a pile of chips.

He thanked the man for stealing away his hard earned cash and took the comparatively worthless plastic chips with him as he looked around, searching for a face he did not find. Resigning himself to the possibility that it may be a night off for the one he sought, he sat at a blackjack table.

Darry was good at cards, maybe even as good as Soda, though he knew he would never hear it admitted from the gambling king's own mouth. He played the dealer for a while before winning more chips. Undaunted, the man played on. Darry won again. He was good at what he did.

Darry picked up the next set of cards and looked up to see that the losing dealer had been replaced by another. He smirked. "Hello, Steve."

The dealer's hands slowed as he shuffled a deck of cards until the motion stopped completely. His eyes took on a hard glint as he leaned forward slightly, staring Darry down. "I beg your pardon, sir," Steve said. The temperature of the room seemed to have dropped several degrees. "You must have me confused with somebody else. My name is Ramon, as you can see right here." He pointed to his nametag, but his gaze did not leave Darry's.

Darry's soft smirk did not lessen. He knew Steve, had known him almost as long as he had known Soda. They – Soda and Steve – had been in grade school together, and had been almost inseparable until Steve had been caught with quite a number of stolen cars in his slightly oversized basement. Judging by how cold he was acting towards Darry now, he did not want his boss to know he was an ex-con. That was good, Darry knew this. Steve would be instrumental in any plan he would put down.

"My mistake," Darry said calmly, collecting his chips and standing. "Table's cold anyway."

"You might want to try the lounge at the Grand, sir," Steve said, the aura of coldness dissipating slightly. "It gets busy around one."

"Thanks," Darry said, walking away without a backwards glance. He had not seen Steve for a number of years, but it would not do to blow his cover in the name of a friendly reunion. In this game, if you lost focus for one second, you were guaranteed to get hurt.

X X X X

A/N: I wrote this for kicks. Nothing more. You have to admit you can see Darry strolling around in a suit as the head of a sophisticated crime syndicate! Maybe if you push imagination to the limits.

I've never seen anything even close to this kind of thing in this fandom, or anywhere much at all, so I actually want honest opinions on do you want more or not. I just want to know is there that one person who would like more, because even if I get just one positive review, I'll keep posting, but if I get none, I probably won't. Like I said, I wrote this simply for kicks.

Everyone will feature in this story, and since I'm still finalizing the cast-characters list, there might have to be randoms, since there's probably more people in Oceans than Outsiders. Looking good so far, though!