Vripter: Well, your wish has come true! Here comes an update, and thanks for the ratings! I will attempt to win a five from you.

Kairyuu-kun: Ya, ya, and more history to come! James Dean will also make an appearance in this chapter (yay!)

Aleutian Sparrow

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or any of the characters in the book and I also do not own James Dean to whom is the sexiest dead man ever, but I do own Airone.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I had eight days off so I had time to work on three chapters on my book and found some time to work on this! Also, if you can could you put in your reviews a dead famous person that you liked a lot and maybe I'll put them in this story!

Dedication: James Dean, for inspiring me to be a writer (James Dean is to me as Einstein is to a scholar!)

Dallas's Point of View

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Where the city sleeps
and I'm the only one and I walk alone…

When I woke up, everything was white. I found it rather difficult to open my eyes so I found my self closing them again and the next time I opened them, my view was normal again; well, almost normal…

There, looking down at me was Jimmy; James Dean, and I was sure that I was dead and in heaven for a minute there, but then again I remembered that I couldn't go to heaven, even if there was one, but I decided to make sure anyway:

"James," I began, making sure that I wasn't still dreaming. "Am I in heaven?" I asked the last part in a dead whisper. Nine years isn't exactly a long time on the earthy, even if I thought like an adult.

"Na, kid, you're not dead or anything like that." He said that with a grin that told me that he was laughing inside and after awhile the laughter came to the surface and his face broke out into a broad grin.

"I've got a lot of explaining to do with you, Dallykid." James said leaning back up. He looked the same as I could remember him, maybe a tad bit older, but not much, just about a year. A small stubble of blondish-brown beard covered his face and his eyes had dark circles under them like he hadn't slept in a while.

His golden-brown hair shimmered in the white light and his lively brown eyes twinkled with a youthful laughter. He was just as short as I had seen him before: only 5"8' and in his mid-twenties at a guess.

He was wearing blue denim jeans and brown cowboy boots with a white tee shirt and he looked just like the character he played in Rebel Without A Cause, only minus that red jacket. Usually he dressed in slacks and a sweater when he was just hanging around, but here he was looking just like everyone else in those clothes.

"Well, lets hear it then!" I said, pulling my covers away and inspecting the leg where I was shot, half expecting the bullet wound to have magically disappeared, proving that this was heaven, but instead my leg was good and bandaged up and I could finally feel the pain and it hurt like a bitch, but I couldn't complain.

"Alright then," he took me by the arms and hauled me up to my feet and I winced a bit but reluctantly took the crutches I was offered. "Just follow me, kid." He said, walking towards the only door in the walls of the white place.

When we reached the door, James was typing in something on this little plastic book thingy that was attached to the door, and when he was done, the door slid open. We walked out and walked down a long, narrow hallway made of metallic alloy of some kind, metals that were only ever used on Navy battleships.

"What is this place?" I almost whispered, looking around to flashing lights and many people rushing past, talking in whispers. It was all so very strange and it reminded me of one of those futuristic movies they played down at the local movie house.

"This is the headquarters to the Aleutian Sparrows." James answered simply, walking on. I didn't push him for more, but I soon found him continuing. "Their job is to save people of historic significance in order to prepare the world for a better tomorrow. In other words, anyone who impacted society but died a too-early death are transported here and made sure that they do not die."

That sounded amazing to me and I finally noticed with a shock who the people walking by me were; George Washington and Albert Einstein. Thomas Edison and Harriet Tubman were talking something over in two armchairs in what resembled a doctors waiting room. To my amazement, Buddy Holly was laughing at a joke Elvis Presley had just told. George Harrison and John Lennon were practicing a duet while Marylyn Monroe listened with vested interest.

"I didn't know Elvis was dead." I said, cocking one eyebrow up.

"Yeah, he died in the seventies, I think. Drug overdose." James commented, leading me to a door separate from the rest.

"Now, Dally," James was saying to me, "There are some things in here that you will not believe, but trust me, they're real." He told me as the door slid open. We both shuffled in and I looked around at what appeared to be a conference room, with a group of teenagers sitting around a table with semi-interested looks on their faces. Three of the people looked far beyond interested and were literally leaning forward in their chairs.

One of those three people was a boy who looked about fourteen years old with scared looking, blackish-brown eyes and black, greasy bangs covering his face and making him look like a sheep dog. His skin was a dark, olive tone and I noticed he had a long scar down his cheek and several burn scars across his bare arms. He smiled when he saw me, and it reminded me of a look a kid would give his long-lost, best friend.

The other of the three was another boy who looked to be in his late teens, about seventeen. He was towheaded and his hair stuck out in odd angles, similar to my own. His eyes were a cold, blue ice color that resembled mine as well and his facial features were curved and pointed, also similar to my own. In fact, he looked like me, only more mature and more colder. He had a red mark around his neck and it kind of scared me.

The last one was a girl with long, raven colored hair and a friendly but insane looking grin. Her blue eyes pierced into mine and she looked like a mad scientist who's plot was succeeding. She looked maybe a bit younger than James Dean did, but her smile appeared more playful and youthful than anything. Her skin was a light, bronze olive color and a small batch of freckles were splattered on her cheeks.

"This is Airone," James said, pointing to the girl with her insane smile. "She founded the Aleutian Sparrows. She's very quite fond of your work, Dally, and decided that you had her own significance in mind, enough for she and I in fact that we decided to save you from being shot to death."

Next he walked over to the boy who looked like an older clone of me and said, "This is Texas Winston, but we just call him Tex. Tex here, as you may have noticed or guessed, is related to you, but this is where things get weird." James had that look on again where he looked like he was laughing inside, his brown eyes lively dancing. "Well, Tex will be your son in eight years, but we can get into that later."

Then James turned to the boy with the greasy black hair and the puppy-dog eyes and smiled at the kid. The boy flashed an admiring grin at James and James said, "Umm… Well, this is Johnny Cade and he will be your best friend in two years, when you get out of jail and move to Tulsa. Johnny Cade, meet Dallas Winston."

Johnny gave me a curt nod but I could tell he was holding something or another in. he smiled for a moment, but just for a moment before he looked at me with pity in his eyes and a frown on his face as if he felt bad for me. Very suddenly though, I no longer just felt pain in my leg, a felt it all over; an ounce of it in the back of my neck, a whole hell of a lot of pain in my back and a few others that I didn't have the chance to feel before my world turned black for the second time and I realized one thing.

James had been serious when he said that I had been shot to death. That boy, Johnny, he must have died in a fire and that was why he had those burn marks still, and my 'son', Tex, he had hung himself. That was why he had that red mark around his neck. I really had been shot to death, and I was only just beginning to feel the pain, for bullet wounds were just the beginning…