A/N; Hey y'all! I'm back! Sorry I left y'all waitin' so long. Now real quick 'fore I jump into the story, I wanna take some time to thank my amazing beta, the one, the only, CarolynneRuth!

Now, without further ado…

"Wakey, wakey Winston." Dallas groans softly, rolling over and pulling the thin pillow over his head in a futile attempt to block out the cop's voice. The cell door squeaks loudly. Dallas is suddenly flipped onto his stomach and has his wrists cuffed behind him once again.

"What the fuck!"

The cops drags him off the small cot and shoves him out of his cell. "I ain't in the mood for your shit Winston."

Dallas forces a sympathetic look on his face, "Did a certain cop not get enough lovin' last night?" The cop shoves him again, sending him into the wall. "Oops." Dallas lets out a long string of curses.

The cop ushers him down the hall, back to a familiar room. "Why're ya bringin' me back ere? I was already interrogated."

"Your attorney's here to see you."

"Attorney? I don't need no damn attorney."

"Oh yea?" The cops laughs, "Are you gonna represent yourself in court then?"

Dallas thinks about it then sighs in resignation, "No."

"That's what I thought."

The cops open the door and leads Dallas to that cursed chair he was cuffed to during his interrogation. The cop forces him into the chair and cuffs him to it. The cop leaves the room, leaving Dallas with the incessant tick of the unseen clock.

Tick, tick, tick…

After half an hour of hearing nothing but the endless tick Dallas jumps up, ignoring the cuffs as they tear at the skin on his wrists and looking for that fucking clock. Then he sits back down and takes a deep breath.

This is exactly what they want, they want to push me over the edge. It ain't gonna work though. I ain't gonna give them the pleasure.

Dallas pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to keep himself under control. Cool and calm. He stares blankly at the empty chair across from him.

Finally his attorney enters the room and moves to the chair he's staring at, dropping a notebook on the table. "Good mor-"

Dallas promptly interrupts him, "What the hell took ya so long?! I got better things to do then sit 'round waitin' for you!"

The attorney glares at him, "Like what? Rot in a jail cell?"

Dallas already decides that he doesn't like this guy.

"Now like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted; Good morning Mr. Winston. I'm Gregory Kellum and I'll be defending you in court."

Dallas sizes him up. Gregory is a younger guy, maybe about 26 or 27 years old. Dallas laughs softly.

Gregory frowns. "What are you laughing at?"

"Just my luck, I get stuck with the new guy. This is your first case ain't it?"

"So what if it is? I'm just as qualified as any other attorney you could've gotten. I graduated at the top of my class!"

Dallas smirks mirthlessly, "And you're lackin' experience."

"Shut it. Do you want my help or not?"

"Sure, whatever. I can't hope for much anyway."

Gregory rakes his gaze over the 17-year-old kid in front of him, taking in every bruise, cut and other injuries laced across his thin body, the ones he can see at least. "How'd you get those?"

"Huh?"

"The bruises."

"I was jumped."

"By who?"

I sure as hell ain't gonna give the credit to Tim Shepard and I have no proof against the fuzz…

"Socs."

"What are socs?"

"Rich idiots who think they own Tulsa."

Gregory pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles something down in his notebook. "So Robert was a soc?"

"Who?"

"Robert Sheldon."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"The young man you killed."

Dallas jumps up and slams his hands down on the table, dragging the chair forward a few inches by the cuffs, "I didn't kill no one!"

"Calm down, you're gonna hurt yourself."

Dallas drops his head so that he's looking down at the table, his sanity wearing thin…and starts laughing. It starts off quiet then quickly escalates, the cold, bitter sound of it echoing around the room and causing his ribs to protest painfully.

This is just a nightmare, an extremely vivid nightmare. I've had 'em before, ain't nuthin' new. Johnny wouldn't kill someone. I'm gonna wake up any minute now, either on the Curtis couch or livin' floor or my room at Buck's and this will all fade into nuthin'…

"Dallas. Come on kid, sit down."

Or maybe this is real… I'm actually doin' this…

After a second he listens to Gregory and sits back down. It takes a bit longer for his laughter subside and by the time it does his ribs are killing him.

"Are you okay?"

Dallas takes a deep breath, ignoring the question, and looks Gregory square in the eye, "You're wastin' your time 'ere."

"How so?"

"There's too much against me, I've already accepted that and now you need to. It's just a matter of what my punishment will be, prison or death row."

Gregory is a little taken aback by the teen's bluntness and slightly disturbed that he's already given up, "That's not necessarily true."

Dallas rolls his eyes, "Uh huh."

Gregory sighs, "Okay, let's backtrack a little bit. You were jumped, correct?"

"Yea."

"By who?"

"I already told you, socs."

"Yes, but do you have any names?"

"No."

"When and where were you jumped?"

And that's when a new idea hits him, "The east side park, the night everyone thinks I killed the soc."

Gregory starts writing in his notebook again, "Do you have a time range?"

"Between 12 and 1-ish in the mornin'"

"Did they outnumber you?"

"Yea."

"By how many?"

I should've asked Johnny for details. Eh, when all else fails, lie your ass off.

"There was like four or five of them, one of me."

Gregory locks eyes with Dallas, "Now I'm only gonna ask you this once; Did you kill Robert Sheldon?"

Dallas wants to laugh at the irony of it all. For once he can actually answer truthfully, "No."

"Did you stab him?"

Dallas takes a deep breath, knowing very well that he's taking a huge risk. He was the whole time, but this… This could shatter any chances of getting off easy. But it could also improve the almost nonexistent chances he has.

Gregory leans forward, "Mr. Winston, did you stab Robert Sheldon?"

And Dallas decides to take that chance, "Yes, I stabbed him."

Gregory continues to write in the notebook, "Tell me everything, start from the very beginning."

Here goes nuthin'.

Dallas tells the biggest lie of his life, making it all up as he goes and trying to link his lies with some of the 'evidence' he planted.

A special thanks goes to;

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CarolynneRuth

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