Disclaimer: I own nothing.

When Heroes Die, Idols Cry

Sometimes we watch our heroes die

And we don't know why

And we don't know why they

Left us so young

Sometimes we watch our mirrors cry

And we don't know why

And we don't know why they

Left us undone

Ms. Daniel looked around her class, her twenty-five year old eyes falling on one boy in particular. His black hair was laid sloppily on his head, his skin was way too pale and he stared out the window, his brown eyes not blinking. She sighed seeing the fifth grader so depressed and it upset her knowing his parent made him come to school.

She knew they were trying to do what was best for him, trying to get him out of the house. It had only been a few days after his brother and few of his friends had been killed in an awful fire at the high school.

"Ms. Night," she said aloud to the student teacher in the back of her room. "The kids have been good today, will you take them outside."

Ms. Night agreed and the students all filed out of the class, jumping around as if they'd just won a million dollars. Only one student didn't stand and run like the rest of them. He sat in his seat and continued to stare out the window, a single tear sliding across his face and into his lap.

"Dawson," Ms. Daniel said walking over and kneeling next to the boy. "Are you okay?"

He nodded numbly and still stared out the window, his brown eyes searching for something in the landscape framed by the window.

"Dawson, you can talk to me. I know what you're going through."

"They were my heroes," Dawson said, his voice flat and distant. "Heroes aren't suppose to die."

"Maybe you could tell me about them and we could do something to help you," she said, holding on to one of his hands. "Tell me."

Dawson turned to face her, his eyes were dull and lifeless. "Zeke was a baker," he whispered. "He loved to bake, anything. But he wanted to make the perfect crème brulee."

She nodded and squeezed his hand, telling him silently to go on. "Chad always carried around a basketball. He even brought it over sometimes when he stayed at our house," he told her, still his voice didn't get any louder than a whisper. "He could always make me laugh."

"My brother, Jason, was the quiet one. He was more of a follower."

Dawson looked back out the window and shut his eyes tight. "Troy's in the hospital," he said, this time in a normal voice. "He was in a coma, but he woke up. He's burned really bad. The first thing he asked when he woke up was where his friends were." Dawson turned back to his teacher, his eyes glassed over with tears. "He's tried pulling tubes and his IV out. He doesn't want to live anymore. Troy was always the level headed one, he used to be my idol, but I'm not sure anymore."

"Dawson," Ms. Daniel said. "A friend of mine writes comics. Maybe he'll help us make a comic book of your heroes, kind of like Superman or Batman."

"Do you think he would," Dawson asked.

"I think he would."

Dawson walked out of the elevator and towards the nurses station on the fourth floor. A kind looking blond woman looked at him. "Hello," she said. "How can I help you?"

"Dawson?"

The fifth grader turned around and saw Coach Bolton. "Never mind," he told the lady before walking toward Jack. "How's Troy?"

"He's okay," Jack said quietly. He looked as if he hadn't gotten sleep in days and a few minor burns covered his arms and face. "What are you doing here alone?"

He looked down at the comic book in his hands. "Do you think it would be alright if I talked to Troy," he asked.

"I don't see why not," Jack said. "It might help him. Follow me."

Dawson silently followed the coach, clutching the papers in his hand tightly. Once they were at Troy's door, he took a deep breath and walked in. The room was filled with beeps and machines. Troy was looking out the window, glaring, his eyes narrow. When the door shut, Troy looked up, his eyes still narrowed. "Dawson," he said, his voice cold and hollow.

"I just thought you might want to read this," he said walking to the bedside table and laying it down. "I'll leave it right there." He turned to leave, but another thought came to his mind and he turned back around. "You're really hurting your dad you know. He saved your life and then you try to kill yourself."

"Are you finished," Troy sneered. "I'm done with getting a lecture from a ten year old."

Dawson turned around and walked to the door, stopping before he opened it. "I always thought you were the greatest thing. I thought you were perfect. I guess I was wrong." And the door slammed shut.

Troy groaned and shut his eyes, sleep overtaking him.

The room was pitch black when Troy woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath. It was another nightmare. He always had the same one. It was him and the guys, stuck in East High as it burned to the ground.

But he always woke up before he died.

The rolled over and tried to fall back to sleep, but it wasn't coming. He tossed and turned for a good five minutes, trying to get comfortable, but he just couldn't. On the table, the comic Dawson had dropped off still laid there. He stared at it before lifting it up and opening it up.

He read it from cover to cover and was amazed when he finished it. The characters were obviously based off him and his friends. Doctor Chef had to be Zeke, Super J was Jason and Big Haired Wonder was definitely Chad. Captain Playmaker was himself.

The story line was that the four superheroes were best friends, but when they tried to save the city from Arson, the villain who was trying to burn down the city hall, Doctor Chef, Super J and Big Haired Wonder got caught under a burning beam. Captain Playmaker inhaled too much smoke and passed out, but he wasn't surrounded by fire like the rest of them, so the firefighters were able to get him out.

Captain Playmaker was temporarily stripped of his powers and his friends were gone, so he became depressed and Arson decided to strike again. This time, Captain Playmaker didn't try to help until he heard the scream of another one of his friends – the beautiful Gabriella. Upon hearing her scream, his powers came back and he helped the city fight Arson's fire, but it was too late. The city was surrounded by fire and there was no way of saving it. So instead, Captain Playmaker tried to evacuate the city and in the end he kicked Arson's butt.

Troy sighed and laid his head on the pillow, a tear falling from his eye down his burned face.

Dawson sat in the stands at the championship game. It had been four months since the fire and Troy had just been released from the hospital. He'd had a few surgeries to try and hide some of the scars he acquired from the fire, and the major ones were gone, but his face wasn't the perfect face he'd had four months ago.

He sat on the bench, jeans and a white t-shirt with his jersey on over the long sleeved shirt. He rarely went out in anything but long sleeves and long pants anymore because he wanted to hide the scars on his arms and legs. He already had people staring at him and it made him ashamed and embarrassed.

The wildcats won, just like they had the year before, except Troy's buzzer shot was missing. Chad and Jason lifting Troy in the air was only a distant memory. Zeke running after Sharpay with cookies was forgotten from everyone's minds. As the gym cheered, Dawson walked down to the court and out the gym doors to the front yard, when a voice yelled out his name making him turn around.

Troy held the comic book out in front of him. "I thought you might want it back."

Dawson grabbed it back slowly and looked up at Troy. His blue eyes looked different from the last time Dawson had seen him, but they were missing something. "I read it," Troy said. "It was cool."

"Yeah," Dawson said quietly.

"I listened to what you said," Troy told him. "I acted immature and...I'm sorry I snapped at you. I know it's months overdue, but I'm sorry."

Dawson shook his head. "Why? Why did you think you had nothing left? You should have been thankful."

Troy's eyes were holding tears that he didn't want to fall. "I lost my three best friends. I was trying to look for them when I passed out from the smoke and I woke up to find out that my dad had gotten me out of the building, but my friends hadn't gotten out. I was mad. I was upset...but I just hurt more people doing what I did."

"I think I understand," Dawson told him. "You're still my idol," he added quietly.

"Why?"

"Because you...changed. You stopped hurting people, yourself. That takes a lot of strength." Dawson turned around. "You should get to your friends."

Troy nodded and turned, walking back in the gym which was full of excitement. He looked up to the sky. "You made him change, didn't you," he whispered to the sky. "You couldn't make him be the villain could you?"

The wind messed up his hair and he laughed. "Thanks. I needed my idol back."

So, how did you like it. The idea popped in my head while I was listening to the song Heroes Die by Ronnie Day (good song, I used part of it above) and I couldn't help but write it down. I've noticed there is a lot of one person dies stories and I thought: how would Troy react if his three best buddies were gone? Well, hope you liked my one shot, now to work on my other stories.

Review!