Disclaimer I do not own The Outsiders and I have come to accept that no matter how sad it makes me

Long Time Coming

"Darry."

I watched as his head shot up in surprise, not at the sound of his name but at the sound of my voice—my voice in this place. But he should have known that I would be the one to come. His eyes locked on mine and a second later he ducked down a few inches lower in shame. Good, I thought with a little too much satisfaction. A little shame might go a long way for him right about now.

I spotted a vaguely familiar face sharing my son's cell. I watched as he grinned and said something quietly, too quiet for me to hear, to Darry causing him to nod seriously. I tried to place the name and it took me longer than it should have but I finally realized it was none other than Timothy Shepard. Glory, he's changed a lot. He used to by the house occasionally when they were all younger. He was always quiet and surprisingly polite. He didn't have a great home life like a lot of the boys and soon he stopped coming by altogether. Now I only knew of him from the boys and from what I heard (which was a lot), he was getting himself into some deep trouble—things a lot more serious than fighting and drinking. I knew Dallas liked him just fine but even he never brought Tim around anymore.

Knowing Dally, I figured there was a reason for that—good or not.

Officer Garrels unlocked the cell and Darry stood up quickly like he had bounced off a spring board. His back was stiff and his muscles were tense and he wouldn't look at me. I wondered briefly if he was embarrassed to have his mom come and bail him out of jail.

All the other boys were watching closely and were probably going to give him a hard time after this but for now they were keeping their mouths shut. Whether that's because they knew better than to mouth off with Officer Garrels right there or because they were intimidated, I didn't know.

Despite most of these boys being tough hoods, hoods like Tim Shepard, I liked to think that they were scared silly of me. Not so much of me but of what I am. A hacked off mom was a terrible thing to behold and Lord knows I was mighty hacked off.

"Come on son, let's go," Darry still wouldn't look at me but I looked at him plenty. I had to lean my head back to get a good look at his face when he came up next to me. He was getting so tall and handsome to boot, but all I saw was the busted lip and the black eye.

The walk to the car was silent and I let him stew in it. The drive home was even more silent and I saw Darry start to shift in his seat. Perfect. I hoped he was plenty uncomfortable.

It wasn't until we were pulling into the driveway that I finally began to talk. Darry looked as nervous as I've ever seen him but there was something deeper lurking under the surface of his expression. He was angry, too, I thought.

"Who was it?" I asked and for the first time since we got in the car, Darry looked at me. "Who'd you fight?" I clarified and was met with more silence. Now I didn't know if he was doing it because he's afraid or because he just didn't wanna talk. Glory, that boy could frustrate me to no end! Darrel says it's because he's a lot like me and maybe that's so. Still, I wanted some answers.

"Well?" I pushed and Darry's jaw tightened.

"What does it matter who I fought?"

"I want to know if you got in a fight with someone worth going to jail over."

He turned and looked out the window and stared down the street. "You don't know him."

"Do you?" I asked right away because if he got into a fight with someone for no reason, I was gonna lose it. He didn't answer again I turned in my seat and looked at him hard. "Well?"

"Well what?"

My eyes narrowed angrily. "You know what I mean Darrel Shaynne Curtis. Was fighting that boy worth it?"

"I won," was all Darry said.

"And still wound up in jail," I reminded him none too gently. "So what'd you fight about?" Darry looked at me like that was the last thing he wanted to answer. "You might as well practice the story before you go in there because you know Soda's about to burst over all this."

My oldest son's eyes rolled at the mention of Sodapop. "Why'd you have to tell him?"

"Soda is nosy and you know it. 'Sides, it was a little hard to miss the details when your father started shouting that you had been hauled in."

"He mad?" Darry winced. He knew it wasn't good news if his father was hollering. Darrel didn't get upset often but when he did, Lordy, that man could blaze with anger. I didn't figure I should mention it to Darry, but I was glad his father upset over this. They were real close, him and Darry, and Darry always seemed to listen to him better than me.

"You bet he is. He says this could mess up your football season. But I'm the one you need to worry about right now. Come on," I motioned with my hand. "Lay it on me."

Darry gave a deep sigh of resignation and finally spit it out. "He called me a greaser."

"So you hit him?"

"He shoved me first. Then called me a greaser and told me Paul was only my buddy because they all felt sorry for me," he was so mad I could hear his teeth click together when he talked. Darry huffed out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest glaring out the window like he wanted to set this neighborhood on fire. "Said I was a charity case."

My heart felt like it was sinking real fast into the pit of my stomach. We sat there in silence for a few minutes as I gathered my thoughts. I was angry myself, of course. But I had to keep my head or else Darry might think that this was an okay reason to fight and get himself arrested.

This was one of those things that they don't tell you about when you become a parent. All those books don't tell you how to deal with things like why some people work and work and work to make a future for their family but are still poor and others seem to hardly try and have every end met, or how to explain to your child that just because you're poor doesn't mean your trash in spite of what others think or say.

"Darry," I started and bit my lip. "I know it ain't fair, baby. But you have to show them you're better than that. You can't go around hitting every idiot who talks trash about you, because people are gonna. Especially because you're so good at what you do—school, football—you're a leader honey and people are gonna be jealous. That means you gotta make hard choices and sometimes the hardest choice is not fighting even if you want to real bad."

Darry sniffed once and I put my hand on the back of his neck and rubbed a little. He was shaking his head and grinding his teeth and I waited. "He didn't even get hauled in, you know. Only I did even though the fuzz saw both of us goin' at it."

"That's why you gotta show them you're better," I said through my own frustration. That's the way things were around here. The unfairness made me so angry sometimes that I thought I was gonna scream. But screamin' wouldn't do much good anyway. There was enough of that in this neighborhood already. So instead, I grabbed my son's chin and looked at him as sternly as I could. "Now you listen to me, Darry, and you listen good. When you walk back into school tomorrow and see all your friends, don't you dare look down. Don't you dare. You keep your head up and you look them in the eye and you show them that you're worth a whole lot more than they think."

"Yes ma'am," Darry nodded and I slid my hand up to rest against his cheek and smiled at him.

"You've been a good boy all your life, Darry," I told him. "Now it's time to be a good man."

He looked at me, his brow drawn together tightly and his face screwing up a little. He nodded slowly in acceptance of his new task.

We went inside after that. Nothing more needed to be said. Darrel was waiting up for us in his chair and when we walked in he folded the newspaper he was reading. I left them to themselves knowing that my job was done.

Exhausted from the night, I headed down the hall towards the boys room and as I rounded the corner I spotted a handsome face peeking out from behind his door. When he saw that he had been caught spying, his eyes widened comically. Soda tried to get back into his room in a real hurry but from the yelp I heard he must've backed right into—or over—Ponyboy.

I hurried over and shooed them with hushed whispers. "Boys! It is past your bedtime. Both of you, get into bed now!"

It was like a miniature tornado of pounding feet as they scrambled into bed. I walked through the room and picked up the clothes that were strewn about the floor and desk and somehow even on the bookcase. Lord knows I had no idea how a pair of pants got up there and I didn't even wanna ask.

Dumping the clothes in their bin, I then went over and began tucking the blanket close around Pony's small body.

"Is Darry in trouble?" He asked with big eyes sounding utterly worried for his big brother. I smiled a little at him. The boy was sweet as honey.

"Yeah, he is in a bit of trouble," I told him. "But don't you worry about it. You need to get some sleep before school tomorrow."

"He's goin' to death row, isn't he?"

I stared at my youngest in absolute shock before shaking my head vigorously. "What? No! Who told you that?"

Ponyboy threw Soda a confused look and Soda only sunk deeper into his bed. I pursed my lips. Of course. I should have known. "Sodapop Curtis, what in the world kind of stories are you tellin' your baby brother? You know better than that!"

"Well we didn't know if Darry murdered someone or not and they put murderers on death row!" Soda protested vehemently like I should have already thought about the possibilities. "We were tryin' to come up with a plan to break him out."

Ponyboy then pulled out a utensil from under his pillow and held it out to show me. "I got a spoon."

I didn't even try to hide the laugh that bubbled up inside of me. "Oh, you were plannin' on digging him out, were you?"

"I told him that would take too long." Soda informed me from the other bed. "Stevie and I would have figured out a better way."

"I'm sure you would have," I frowned a little thinking about the most likely terrifyingly wild plan that Steve and Soda would have come up with. Those two were a dangerous combination and kept me on my toes. "Listen, don't either of you go askin' Darry what happened tonight, you hear me? He's back and he's safe but he had a rough enough night," I told them in my no nonsense voice and heard a small chorus of, "Yes ma'ams."

"Alright then," I leaned down to kiss Ponyboy on his forehead. I whispered against his skin how much I loved him and then went over to Soda who grinned up at me like he usually does—reckless and free and happy and far too much like his father. I couldn't help but grin back at him as I kissed him as well and Soda threw his arms up around my neck knocking me off balance and making me laugh.

Untangling myself from Soda's arms I headed towards their door still grinning. "Goodnight, both of you."

"Night," they both answered at the same time.

Later that night I heard the front door open and close quietly. I knew it was one of the boys but listened for a second longer to find out which one. If the refrigerator opened, it would be Two-Bit—you'd have thought that boy was never fed by how much he could put away. If the lamp got turned on, it was Steve—he'd never been a fan of being in the dark, especially after his father kicked him out. I wouldn't have woken up at all if it was Johnny—he slipped in so quiet that it was almost frightening. But when I heard soft footsteps come down the hall, ritually checking throughout the house to make sure everyone was safe and fast asleep, I knew it was Dally.

Normally, I would have gone back to sleep but after a night like tonight, I found it hard to shut my mind off and suddenly I was thirstier than a hot desert. I slipped out of bed and wrapped my robe tightly around me.

He was sitting on the couch in the dark when I walked in. His eyes didn't fly to me, wary at the sudden intrusion, no; Dallas was staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. I furrowed my brows and tried to see if he was beat up or drunk. I didn't smell any alcohol and as far as I could see his skin was its usual ghostly pale. But he was still staring at the wall so I went into the kitchen and got myself a glass of water.

"Why'd you go get 'im?"

The voice scared me so bad that I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. I turned around wiping water away from the corner of my mouth. Dally had followed me into the kitchen and he was staring at me like I was a bank vault that he was trying to figure out how to open up.

It struck me that I had never really seen him like this. I've seen him violent as a thunderhead, I've seen him bitter and cold and angry like winter. I've seen him protective and proud. I've even seen him goofy… well, as goofy as Dally can get. But I don't think I've ever seen Dallas Winston desperate.

"Why'd you go bail Darry out tonight?" He asked again when I didn't answer right away and I could tell that whatever I said was going to be real important to him.

"Because he's fifteen," I told him and Dally squinted at me clearly not understanding. "I couldn't just leave him there overnight."

He was silent for a moment and then his mouth twisted and he spoke as quiet as I've ever heard him. "My mom never came to bail me out. Ever."

I stood there in the kitchen with a boy who most considered a tough hood in nothing but my night robe and slippers and finally I understood. Looking past the leather jacket, the scowl nearly permanently planted on his lips, it was all too easy to imagine him sitting in a jail cell at ten years old, small and towheaded with wide blue eyes trying so hard to be as tough as he talks. I imagined him waiting, waiting, waiting desperate like he was now for someone—anyone—to show up, to claim him as theirs, to come rescue him out of that place that maybe he never really wanted to be in. I imagined the betrayal he must have felt running through his veins like poison when he sat there alone hour after hour with no one bothering to show up.

What I saw in my mind was so violent in its clarity that I understood the fury in him now. Fury that boiled bright and hot and so painful that it blistered the inside of him turning him into something meaner and tougher and bitterer than any of the other boys.

I blinked hard once, twice and harshly told myself not to tear up, but I couldn't seem to help it. I found myself abruptly and blindly angry at this woman that I pictured as his mother. I wanted to shout at her and tell her off… but she wasn't there. She never was. There was just Dally and his fury and his desperation.

"She should have come," I said fiercely and his eyes burned into mine like fire, branding me. "Your mother should have been there to get you, Dallas."

He stared at me for an eternity with that same bank vault look trying to figure me out and I couldn't take it anymore. So I turned around and blinked furiously and swiped a hand across my eyes. Breathing deep, I turned back around and nearly deflated in relief to see Dally staring at the floor now instead of me.

"S'okay if I crash here tonight?" He asked suddenly. He knew he didn't have to ask but for some reason something told me that Dallas needed to know that he was welcomed tonight—that he had a place.

"Of course," I told him and he chewed on a finger nail and nodded. "You need anything? That blanket warm enough for you?"

Dally stopped chewing and grinned at me. "Nah, I'm good." He turned and headed back towards the couch waving over his shoulder. "G'night."

I watched him briefly as he shrugged out of his cowboy boots and got himself comfortable on the couch. He scratched at his side for a moment before sighing deeply and burrowing under the blanket. That sigh brought a soft smile to my face.

"Sweet dreams, Dally," I whispered and turned off the kitchen light.

AN: Part two coming soon!