There were muffled voices in the background. They were faint, but they were disturbing him nonetheless as he felt himself float back and forth between sleep and consciousness. His mind was foggy, his eyelids heavy.

The surgery was over. It had gone well according to Dr. Sullivan.

"... the poor boy needs to rest now ... we'll watch him closely ... the next 48 hours will be crucial ..."

These were snippets of conversation Dally tried to block out as he laid in the recovery room. The deep sleep of anesthesia had felt so good. He craved more of it. Dally willed himself back there... back to peaceful slumber and comforting dreams. After a few minutes he was rewarded for his efforts and he was pleased. 'Cause the dreams felt real. So real he could touch them ...

The hallway where he sat was cold as ice. Cold and gloomy with walls the colour of cement. This bench was getting familiar. Too familiar and Dally should have been worried about it. In true, cool Winston fashion he brushed it off instead; like it was no big deal. Just another day at the office, as it were.

"I need you to sign here ma'am." ... the officer said as he handed her a piece of paper.

She was bailing him out ... again.

When the paperwork was done, Mrs. Curtis walked over to where he was sitting. She had a stern look on her face and a tone of voice to match.

"I ought to put you over my knee right here. Humiliate you good and proper. Maybe then I'll stop getting these phone calls in the middle of the night."

She didn't do it. Instead she took Dally by the arm and led him out into the cool Tulsa night. She climbed into the Curtis' old truck and Dally followed her. They sat there for a minute before starting the engine.

"You mad at me?"

"No, Dallas ... not mad. Just disappointed. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for causing all that trouble out there tonight. You know, just because people perceive you to be a delinquent and treat you like one doesn't mean you have to live up to their expectations."

"Thanks for coming to get me."

"You're welcome sweetheart. But I'm telling you right now it had better be the last time I see you sitting on a police bench, do you hear me?! If I see you there again you're going to be one sorry young man."

She hadn't. Hadn't seen him sitting on that police bench again. That didn't mean he didn't end up there ... she just hadn't lived to see it.

The thought was foggy, but it made Dally's heart clench.

The drive home was silent. When they arrived Dally hopped out of the truck and sauntered around to her side to open her door. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to. With her he always wanted to.

A short walk up the front sidewalk, then the telltale creak of the loose floorboard on the second step. Climbing up onto the Curtis' porch, Dally felt at ease. This was the feeling of coming home... where you belonged... where someone wanted you. Dally savoured it as Mrs. C pushed open the squeaky screen door. She handed him a blanket and a pillow as soon as they entered the house.

"Time for sleep now, love. Tomorrow is a new day." She turned to walk away.

"I'm uh - I'm sorry for disappointing you."

She turned back to look at him. She caught his eyes, sighed, then smiled a tired, end of the day kind of smile.

"I know you are ... you're forgiven Dallas."

She kissed his cheek gently and went to her room. He sat there for awhile after she left ... then he cried like there was no tomorrow. It had surprised him as much as it would have surprised anyone. No one would ever know. Dallas Winston was tough. He was gonna keep it that way.

Dally shifted and stirred on the hospital bed making the nurses certain he was waking up. But he wasn't. He wouldn't let himself. Still mesmerized by sweet reverie, he wanted more. Then there it was ... a seamless transition to one week after the police station incident. Dreams are weird that way, right? One minute you're in trouble for getting hauled in and the next minute it's your birthday and you're sitting around the dinner table at the Curtis' house...

She must have spent all afternoon decorating it. Dally had never seen a nicer cake in his life. She smirked at its lopsided-ness as she set it down in front of him. The whole gang was there and Mr. and Mrs. C and everyone else was singing loud and off key and making a big production out of things. If it had been spear-headed by anyone else he would have shut it down with a scowl, but he couldn't. This was her doing, and there was no choice but to go along with it.

After slicing up the cake and passing it around, Mrs. Curtis reached into the small pocket of her pretty floral apron. She pulled out a little box. It was wrapped up in newspaper and it had a bright blue bow tied to the top. She said nothing, setting it down next to Dally's plate.

When he thought no one was paying attention he opened it.

"It's St. Christopher." she whispered.

He could smell Mrs. C's nice violet perfume as she reached around behind him to clasp the medallion on his neck.

Voices in the background.

"No ... not yet ..." Dally pleaded behind closed eyes.

She turned him around, hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"It's to keep you safe ... since you insist on making things difficult for yourself. "

A wink, a smile, a cascade of soft laughter ... his hair swept aside on his forehead as she placed a soft, motherly kiss on his brow ...

More voices in the background. Medical jargon, machines beeping, cold steel pressed up against his chest.

"Why can't you people just let me sleep?!" Dally quietly cursed thru his fog.

He was desperate to stay. He liked being where he was ... with Mrs. Curtis and the gang having a good day in that old, run down house full of warmth and unconditional love.

But he could feel himself returning to the real world. The floating, dreamy sensation was becoming hard to hold on to. Dally felt his grasp slipping. He tried to resist. He wanted to stay here. Too difficult - he felt his body stir as he plunged back to reality.

Thanks so much for reading! Any chance I could get a few reviews? TulsaGirl