AU/ I finally got an idea! I'm in the midst of reading 'The Godfather' (which is an amazingly awesome book, at least so far) right now and I'm afraid to say that this book has triggered a new obsession! The New York crime families! And in The Outsiders it said that as a kid Dally lived on the streets of NY, so violia! I decided to start a fic about Dally's background, which mainly revolves around his parents (until he arrives that is), and I thought that this could be NY crime family thing, starring Dally's dad.

This FF is a bit of a crossover with The Godfather, I wanted to use the five families in the book instead of the real ones.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders, or the Godfather.

It was a cold morning on December 8, 1948 in New York City.

The wind was crisp and chilly, and seemed to pierce right through your body as it briskly breezed by. The clouds were grey, yet not ominous in the sky. They seemed to be lighter then feathers and float as if they were completely carefree. The sky was almost like smoke, as if a light fog had grown up in the sky.

A sixteen year old Leo Maroni stood on the steps of a rundown, supposedly abandoned office building that was due to be torn down in early spring, as soon as the weather cleared up.

He grinned to himself slyly as he took out a pack of cigarettes he had stolen from the shop across the street out of his coat pocket. He pulled one out and and then fumbled around in his shabby coat for a box of matches or a match itself.

"Damnit," He growled to himself, when he felt nothing but pocket lint. He then hastily took the pack of cigarettes and shoved them back into his coat.

Leo began to walk, kicking the small pebbles that lay astray on the polluted sidewalk. He passed the end of the office building where there was a window.

He glanced at it and saw his reflection.

In it, he saw a Sicilian boy, no more then sixteen. Tall and thin, which was a strange trait to appear in Sicilians. He had wavy dark brown hair, almost black that resembled the color of rich dark chocolate, that could only someone of wealth in this area could afford. His eyes were almost the same color but lighter. Like milk chocolate. His eyes were large and had a slight angered look to them. His mouth formed a bitter grimace. It wasn't purposely, it had been like that his whole life. Perhaps sixteen years on the streets did that to you.

Leo Maroni was a hood. He was always a hood and always would be. He had no control over it. He was born into it.

Born in Brooklyn, he was the first child to be born in America out of his siblings, which half were born in Sicily and half in America. He was the middle child. Being that, Leo did not receive as much attention as he'd hope from his parents.

Leo lived in poverty. His parents, Francesca and Ciro had come to America by boat with their three small children. They had manged to find a small apartment in a poor Italian neighborhood, with a small fee for rent. While Francesca was at home caring for her children, Ciro struggled to find a steady job. There were few places that hired foreign men who did not speak fluent English. He tried so hard. So hard for nothing. Less then a year had passed from when the family came to America and soon enough, Leonardo was born.

As jobs ran out and the great depression had started, Leo's father watched his family slowly starve. They were often hounded by the landlord for their rent, and were constantly threatend to be evicted. Their third born son, Amando, was found dead in his bed one morning. This came as a shock to the parents. Amando was never the healthiest child in the family, he suffered from pneumonia as a baby. Still, he was well enough to survive. If only they had food.

Feeling a desperate need to take action, Ciro had packed up his courage to leave his wife and children for a short amount of time, which had turned out to be a week. Upon his return, Ciro brought home a large sum of money. He said nothing about where he had been or what he had done to get the money, for a suspicious yet nervous Francesca did not ask him. She was afraid to, afraid of the answer that she suspected- murder.

The Maroni's were no strangers to murder. Sicily and New York were surrounded by gangsters and the Mafia in which murder was the main asset. It would not surprise Francesca if Ciro had gotten involved.

Over the course of a year, Ciro continued to leave the home for periods of time, then arriving with money, sometimes even rich and expensive Italian food. In this year, another child was born to Ciro and Francesca. In the next year two more were born.

One day in the summer of 1936, young Leo was enjoying the summer sun on the sidewalks of Brooklyn. The sun was out and he could feel it warm the back of his neck when he stood up straight. Him and his neighborhood friends were playing in the horse's fountains on the street, to keep cool. He can still remember the joy that came with being splashed by cool and stale water. He could hear Old Nona Camazzi's crystal clear and soulful voice belting out old Sicilian love songs from her apartment.

Then, he saw something.

Two men, who were large and strongly built made their way to his apartment. They looked sinister, clad in well tailored suits and fedoras. The went inside solemly.

Curious to see where they were going, little Leo followed them into the building. Keeping his distance, yet still easily tailing them he followed them up to the fourth floor, where he resided. He was extremely surprised when one of the men knocked on his apartment's door. His mother answered the door, holding his baby sister in her arms. She curtly invited the men inside, though Leo sensed there was something wrong. His mother was normally a warm and inviting person, though now she seemed act cold with fear.

Leo stood hidden at the landing of the staircase. He could hear the click of the door shut.

After a few moments, the men left the room and Leo's stomach did a backflip. Not wanting to be caught spying, Leo ran down the stairs like there was no tomorrow. When he reached the warm of the outdoors he kept running, not looking back. He finally stopped where he felt he could be safe, beside a horse fountain. The men walked past him to get to their automobile. One man glanced at him quickly. Leo would never forget the cold black eyes that looked at him.

After the men drove away, Leo rushed back to his apartment. His legs burned and his lungs ached by the time he was on the third set of stairs. However, he did not stop until he reached his door. Slowly turning the knob, he opened the door and stepped inside.

He was greeted by the sound of soft weeping. He walked into the main room, where his mother sat at the table beside two empty wine glasses.

She was crying, her face like Leo had never seen before. Though she was still a young women, only twenty eight, at that moment she looked ten years older. Wearily weeping, she held her daughter close.

Leo silently approached his mother and asked, "Mama, what is wrong?"

His mother sniffed then said weakly, "Papa is no more."

Though it seemed so long ago, Leo could remember it like yesterday.

After that fateful day, things were never the same. Leo's mother was never the same. His siblings (except for the ones that were too young to understand) were never the same.

The years went by and for Francesca it began to grow harder to support her family. Her eldest son, Alfie, had gotten a job boxing food at a grocery store and Francesca had been doing the neighbours laundry and cooking for a small fee. This was still not enough. The funds slowly began to drop, and the Maroni's began to grow poorer and poorer, until soon they were evicted from there apartment and left on the streets. Luckily, Francesca had befriended a woman who had previously lived next door, Madonna, who's husband owned a small accounting firm's office building. With little convincing, Madonna was able to get her husband to allow the Maroni's to live in the attic of the building.

It was horrible there. Cramped, boiling, smelly and stuffy is what it was. There was only enough room for a shabby icebox and some boxes to keep food in, two small cribs for the babies and a few matresses on the floor for Francesca and the children. There was also a small toilet and tub that were in dire need for repairs.

Then, another shock came. When Leo was almost ten years old his mother unexpectedly had a heart attack and died at only thirty four. His older brother, Alfie, was left to take care of his six younger siblings including Leo.

Life was hell for them. Nearing his eleventh birthday, Leo made a quick decision- he would run away from home. It was a selfish choice. One that would heavily affect the family. But it would be the best for Leo Maroni himself.

Leo spent five years on the streets. Working odd jobs, sleeping in alleyways, stealing food. That was the life. Sometimes it was paradise, sometimes it was a hell hole.

And that is what made him a hood. Thievery and homelessness. The looks people cast him when he walked past them on the streets. The looks of disgust. And Leo knew that there was only one person who wasn't disgusted by him.

A girl by the name of Virginia Winston.

Shall I continue? I know it probably dosen't make alot of sense right now but it should piece together with other chapters added. :D

Please R&R! :)