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What is Soda's middle name?

I do not own the Outsiders!

I feel something so right
By doing the wrong thing
And I feel something so wrong
By doing the right thing
I could lie, could lie, could lie
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive

Counting Stars, One Republic

Tim POV

I left Dal with a heavy weight on my chest. It wasn't a foreign feeling to me. Ever since I had gotten into my first gunfight I had had this weight on me; a weight that I had become almost immune to. But when Dally had come, the weight had left. Now, this re-appearance shocked me.

I already wished for Dally to be here. If he were here, he would silently walk beside me, but he would be there. He used to be so loud and obnoxious. Don't get me wrong, I loved Dallas to death, but I couldn't be myself around him. With Dally, I could say whatever I wanted, and know that he was listening, but no be made fun of.

I'm not making any sense.

But I had to keep secrets, even from Dally.

He couldn't ever find out about what I did...

Dally POV

Tim murdered someone. Someone with a life, friends, family, maybe even kids of their own; and it's all Tim's fault that he had to leave them. There is no excuse for what he did.

My own brother.

I wanted to see Tim. But not to talk to him, or be near him. I wanted to yell at him, to make him cry one tenth of the tears that the dead persons family must have cried. To hurt him.

I practically begged Rudyard to let me see him. He said yes, only because I gave him a stare I had perfected; big blue, puppy dog eyes with just the right amount of sadness.

At the moment, he was leading me to a room that he had bullied one of the intern guards into letting me and Tim speak in- alone. Although he warned me that he would be watching and listening.

I waited not-so-patiently for Tim, my anger boiling, giving me a headache.

When the jumpsuit clad figure stepped through the door, I focused all of my anger into my eyes and glared daggers at Tim.

He winced noticeably, but walked over to me all the same, reaching out hesitantly to touch my shoulder.

"Dally? Dal, are you ok?"

"No." I was trembling with rage and indignation, and I slapped his comforting hand on my shoulder away.

"Tell me this, Tim," I put as much menace as possible into the word, "Do you honestly not remember why you are in jail?"

Tim sighed in resignation. "So, you found out? Yeah, and?"

"AND! You killed someone Tim. You deserve the chair! Why the hell are you in plain jail?"

"So you're saying I deserve to die? A life for a life, is that it? You didn't know that boy that died!"

"And you did?"

"Yes!"

"Then what was his name? Tell me about him."

"I'm not going to tell you his name. He was still in high school. He was a Soc. He had a girlfriend. He had friends, and a car. Two younger siblings, divorced parents, hated greasers with a burning passion."

"That's all you know? His class? His status? His stereotype? Do you know what he was like? Do you know who he loved? What he had been through? Tell me Tim, when I die, what will people remember about me? That I was a greaser? That I didn't have any family? That I hung out with the Curtis'? That I had a criminal record? What more is there to me?"

"Of course there's more to you! You are the sweetest, nicest, most innocent person I have ever met!"

"I've been this way for almost a month. I was cruel and tough as nails with no heart for 17 years. That's what people will remember!"

Suddenly Tim seemed angry. "That's not true Dal! How do you think I feel? I will be remembered for murdering someone!"

"Well then you shouldn't have done it!"

Tim's anger was suddenly overcome by a wave of calm so sudden, it was slightly disorienting. "Listen to me Dal. Are you listening? Because I'm about to tell you something that you can't ever tell anyone."

I nodded, a little scared and apprehensive about his tone and what he had said.

"I didn't murder that boy. His name was Bob Sheldon. I wasn't even in Tulsa the day he was murdered."

"Then who framed you?" Tim's lip curled in a sarcastic and bitter smile.

"You did."

"What?" My mind reeled. How could I have framed Tim? And why would I want to? "I thought that you said that we were friends!"

"You were my friend, yes. But the only person you ever considered a friend was Johnny. You thought Johnny was going to make it. You knew that he wouldn't get the chair because he was a hero, but he was assured jail time. And you didn't want him to turn hard. So you came to me, and begged me to take the blame. By the time Pony went on trial for murder, they were just checking my story. Pony was never in any danger. The damned Socs told the truth, but you manged to convince the police that the Socs just wanted to get Johnny in trouble, saying that he murdered Bob."

"But Johnny's dead! Why don't you tell the truth now?" I was disgusted with myself for doing what I did to Tim, and my reckless anger was now confused, not sure who it should be angry at. The Socs? Myself? Or maybe just this entire, messed up society.

"Yeah, Johnny is dead. First of all, the police would never believe me. Second, you asked me, the night you were supposed to die, not to turn Johnny in."

"Why did you do what I said! It doesn't make any sense!"

"Because...because you were crying, and I can't see you cry." Tim looked down, ashamed, and I remembered something, and it was like deja vu.

I heard myself saying almost exactly the same words. "Dally, why did you take that hit for me?"

"Aww, shucks kid, I can't stand to see you cry."

I shook my pounding head to clear it, but for some reason, the conversation thoroughly disturbed me. I realized that, just as Johnny had been my weak spot, I was Tim's.

"Tim, we have got to do something! We can't just...I can't just let you spend the rest of your life in jail!"

Tim shook his head. "Not the rest of my life. I told the court that they were drowning Pony, which is true, so I acted in self defense...or something along those lines. I played the hero, and I'll be out of here in 20 years."

"If you live that long!" I hadn't meant to say it, but Tim just chuckled.

"I'm safer in jail than in the outside world. That's...a different story, one I probably can't ever tell you, but I'm warning you, don't try to 'save' me. Living my life isn't worth my death."

"Tim-"

"Dally, please. Please just let me be. It's not worth the time and energy for something that will make me unhappy."

Tim sounded so forlorn, that I instantly forgave him for lying to me. I walked over to him and put my arms around him, feeling small, as I only came up to his chest.

He responded at once and held me close. He was shaking slightly, and I pulled back, to see his eyes shining with tears.

I didn't know why he was close to crying, but it made me cry also, and soon we were hugging eachother fiercely, crying into eachother shirts.

Tim collected himself in only a minute, but he let me sob until I felt sleepy. "I'm sorry I can't be there for you Dal." He paused for a second, as if stealing himself to do something. "Dally, could you do me a favor?"

I nodded, sniffling slightly from the aftermath of the tears. "Anything."

"Well, a few things. I want you to go back to school. You were a real smart kid before you were allowed to drop out. And also...could you talk to my sister and brother? They don't know my sentance yet, and I don't know how they're doing...tell them to maybe visit me in the next twenty years."

I felt bad for Tim. I may not have any real family, but I have seven brother who all love me, and I, in return, love them. Tim was driving on a one way street. His siblings didn't even love him enough to wonder where he was, or visit him in jail.

"Sure Tim, anything."