Reviews:

Sammy - Haha! Thank you so much! You saying that means a lot to me. I'm really grateful for all you've done for these stories. :) I hope you like this next chapter!

PercyboyCade - You? Mean? Never! Don't worry, I take your impatience as a compliment. Anyway, I hope you don't mind that I'll probably continue to torture you with these cliff-hangers. We'll see... :p

Day 2

"Jack, where have you been? Mom and Dad are gonna kill you!" Judy cried out, running up to Dally as he stepped into the mansion.

He shoved her away then stormed up the stairs without answering. The whole affair at Dan's place hadn't exactly made him feel especially friendly towards these dumb socs. Probably hated them even more for what they'd done. What Soc 1 and Soc 2 had said about pushing Jack too far... Something seemed off about that. Dally knew enough about friendship to judge them harshly for how they'd treated the guy. You just didn't get someone you cared about that drunk. Even if it would've been hilarious.

Dally smirked at the thought, remembering. Just last week, he'd been hanging out with Two-Bit at Buck's and the russet-haired greaser had downed twelve beers in rapid succession before Dal had decided to intervene. What could he say? A drunk Two-Bit was a much funnier Two-Bit. But he knew how to hold his liquor. Jack clearly didn't and the other socs had known that.

"Wait..." the girl said thoughtfully. She bolted up the stairs, following Dally into Jack's room. Once inside, she got real close and sniffed. Her face contorted in disgust. "You've been drinking. Did you drive drunk?"

"So what if I did?" he challenged.

"You could've killed somebody!" she shouted, throwing her arms up. Her eyes flashed dangerously and she fought for control of herself. A couple deep breaths passed through her lungs. Then she sat down beside Dally on the bed. "I just... I wish you'd be more careful. I don't know what I'd do if something bad happened."

Dally shrugged, glaring at the reflection of Jack with his sister. He didn't think he'd ever get used to that - seeing a soc when he looked into the mirror. It was too strange, surreal. Like he could've been only dreaming as he lay in a hospital bed.

He wondered what was happening with his body, if it was receiving proper care. No one really cared for greasers. Not here and definitely not in New York. That's why he'd learned to care for himself. If you didn't look after yourself, no one else would. But he was in a bit of a bind with this situation, all things considered, and he supposed he'd just have to put some faith in the gang. They'd have made sure he was getting treated right. They wouldn't have let anything too terrible happen... Right?

There was a gentle sigh, coming from the girl beside him. He turned to face her - what was her name again? - and raised an eyebrow. The expression looked weird on that face. It wasn't the threatening curiosity he was used to seeing. On Jack's face, a raised eyebrow was just genuine confusion.

"I'm going to school..." Janet(?) mumbled, standing up.

No, that ain't right... Dally thought as he watched the younger girl shuffle out of the room. Jean? Jessie? Damn, what the hell is her name?

After a moment, he gave up. It didn't really matter to him if he knew the name of his host's sister. He made a mental note to try to avoid everyone Jack usually came in contact with. Any interaction with them would only cause trouble and, at that point, he figured he was having more than enough problems without needing to worry about Jack's social life.

"Jackson Robert Marshall!" A vaguely familiar man's voice assaulted Dally's ears, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. The door was thrown open and the polished knob slammed against the bedroom wall.

Once the man was standing in the doorway, Dally recognized him as Jack's father. A tall guy with decently muscular arms despite his age, he was in a constant state of scowling disapproval. At least, that's how Dallas saw him - not that it mattered any. As soon as he got the tears he needed, he'd never see Mr. Marshall again.

"Yeah?" Dally replied, leaning back on the bed in a gesture of half-hearted defiance. He refrained from saying anything too rough, though, cause he didn't want them to figure out what was going on with their son. He was pretty sure that Scheduler guy wouldn't take kindly to having the secret spoiled on only the second day. That would've ruined the fun...

"Listen here, boy," Mr. Marshall growled. "I don't ever want to see your sorry ass stumbling home like that again. If anyone from the company saw you, I'd be ruined." The tone of his voice changed completely, suddenly transforming into something kinder. "You understand, don't you?"

"No."

The anger returned in a flash, darkening his eyes like storm clouds smothering a pale blue sky. "What did you say?"

"Nothin'."

He couldn't quite comprehend what happened next. It seemed too odd to have been real, but that didn't mean it was okay. There must've been a hint of disrespect in his voice cause Mr. Marshall's face got all red when his response burrowed into the older man's ears, probably echoing in his empty head.

Dally grinned, unable to stop the crooked expression from stretching across his face. Sometimes, he was real funny - especially when insulting people. Humor and harsh words went together better than anyone else cared to think. They were afraid of hurting feelings, but he didn't mind having to break a couple hearts. All part of greaser life.

The pain wiped that smirk right off his face. Heat welled up in his cheeks and he noticed a sharp stinging sensation spreading from his nose, out to his ears. His fingertips unconsciously brushed across his upper lip. Spots of blood dirtied his fingers as he pulled them back, gaze shifting from the scarlet drops to the ruby-faced man and back again. Utterly dumbstruck until he noticed the little flecks of blood tainting the clock face of Mr. Marshall's gold and ivory wrist watch.

"You hit me," he said, void of all expression now.

Mr. Marshall cleaned his watch on the comforter of the bed, leaving behind bloodstains when he finally walked out of the room. Dally curled up on the mattress and appeared much more cat-like than he ever had before.

xxxxxx

He must've fallen asleep cause, the next time he opened his eyes, he saw Jack's face beside him rather than in a mirror. Dally scrambled off the bed, mouth sneering in disgust. It didn't matter that he wasn't physically there. Dallas Winston would never share a bed with another man. Already, his mind produced the mocking words of his friends - what they would've said if they'd known. Faggot... He shuddered in spite of himself.

Jack sat up, a look of confusion spreading over his features as his fingers tentatively prodded his bruised lip. "What the hell...?"

"Your old man's an asshole," Dally said even though he knew the soc couldn't hear him. "Are ya really surprised that he'd hit ya?"

The soc went about his usual morning routine which included getting changed, grabbing a bite to eat, then brushing his teeth. The only difference was that it wasn't morning. It was the afternoon. By then, school had ended and most of the day was wasted on sleep. The sister came home shortly after Jack had finished getting ready. She checked in with him quickly then retreated to her room so she could do her homework.

It was probably around five o'clock - 2 and a half hours of Jack lazing around the mansion - when Mr. Marshall returned from work. He strolled into the living room awkwardly, forced a wrapped present into his son's hands.

"What's this for?"

"It's... umm..." Mr. Marshall fidgeted with his wrist watch. After a few moments of this strangely out-of-character behavior, he met Jack's gaze. "It's because I hit you. And I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

"You...hit me?" Jack's head tilted a bit to one side and his eyebrows shot up skeptically. Then a grin took over his expression. "Must've been a good punch... I don't remember it at all." He laughed as he patted his dad's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I probably did something wrong. And I really don't need a present or an apology."

Dally stared at the soc boy, eyes wide for a moment. It didn't make any sense to him. Why did Jack forgive so easily? How did he even have the strength to say it was alright?

When Dal's dad hit him, Dally hit back. Then he'd run out before the fighting got too bad and try to find a way to calm himself. Which usually meant violent sex with random broads. But sometimes... It killed him inside to think about it, but sometimes he just found a safe place to hide. A place where he could be alone, where he could let those burning tears roll down his bruised cheeks.

He hated crying. It was weak, pathetic. Many people had told him so, back in New York. They'd beat him down worse if he cried cause even the young boys had to be tough. There wasn't room for emotion in a city like that. If he still lived there, he knew without a doubt that his current quest would've been impossible to complete.

Thank God for dying in Tulsa... he thought, hanging his head a bit as he followed Jack out of the bedroom. He hadn't noticed how worn down he felt until that point and he just wanted to be able to sleep again. Properly.

Jack stayed home that night. He got a phone call from Dan, who was probably concerned when his friend hadn't met him at school that morning. With a sigh, he explained how much the party had tired him out and how he'd only woken up sometime in the afternoon. But he assured the other soc that he was fine, quickly hanging up before Dan could say anything else.

Dally silently followed him around, lost in his own messed up thoughts. New York... You just couldn't escape it that easily. Maybe in Tulsa it was okay to be more open, but the city had locked him up damn tight. Leave behind the city and it went with you. Hovered along wherever he ran, always above his head like a storm cloud threatening to dump gallons of rain water on his head at any moment. It was a part of him.

When night came and the soc finally fell asleep, the greaser felt that same pull he'd experienced the first time he'd possessed Jack. But he resisted the call. He just couldn't muster up the willpower to go on. At least not that night.

He watched Jack sleep, seeing the soc's peaceful expression. Must've been a good dream... But he couldn't understand why. Why Jack didn't care when he was abused. Why he himself cared so much about the feelings of a goddamn soc. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing at all and he wondered if maybe it'd be better if he just gave up.

I fuckin' deserve to die, don't I? He leaned his head back against the bedroom wall, hugging his knees to his chest as his eyes slid shut. Everybody has to someday. Why can't I go now? What's even keepin' me here?

AN - Thank you all so much for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter please give it a review. I'd love to hear what you guys think about Dally's situation and the general direction the plot is heading in. :D