Note: I do not own The Outsiders

Chapter 9

He could see the flicker of flames through the thick black smoke. Cinders were raining down upon him, stinging his arms and face. Waves of suffocating heat slammed into him, threatening to bring him to his knees. He was stumbling … searching.

Johnny's screams pierced through the red haze. Guilt and despair washed over him - he was too late. Johnny was suffering and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Anyone but Johnny …

A loud, ominous cracking sound echoed above the roar of the fire. Panicked - eyes watering, chest tight, he continued his frantic search. Finally, he saw a shape in the flames. It was Johnny - lying on the floor, not moving. Broken and burned, he looked like an abandoned rag doll.

Finally, an end in sight, he surged forward to rescue his friend. The creaking grew louder and large pieces of timber began to fall. The roof was caving in, threatening to trap them. Reaching out, fingers almost touching Johnny's jean jacket - a wall of flames suddenly engulfed them and --

Dallas woke with a jolt. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure it would burst through his chest. Disoriented, it took him a few seconds to realize where he was.

Gray walls, gray floors, gray clothes. Jail. Nothing new for Dallas Winston, but this time seemed different somehow. Everything felt closer, smaller. The underside of the bunk above him seemed to be bearing down upon him. Collapsing on him like the roof of the church did.

Bracing both hands on the mattress, he sat on the edge of the bed - trying to steady his breathing and regain his composure. It was the dream again - the fucking dream he'd been having ever since Johnny's first letter had arrived a week ago.

He'd read the letter - at first he didn't want to. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but that was a lie. Johnny's handwriting was familiar; he'd always written carefully, slowly as though each word was important.

As he read the letter, Dally felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest. Johnny was getting better. Maybe everything really was going to be okay. That night, however, was when he had the first nightmare. Seven days later, he still couldn't shake it.

Hands shaking, he grabbed a cigarette and lit a match. Raising the match to the end of the cancer stick, he stopped midway, mesmerized by the flame. Eerie screams started to echo down the hallway - Johnny's screams. Dally closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It's not real, he told himself as he released the air from his lungs. The flame continued down the match, burning Dally's fingers, breaking him out of his trance.

"Fuck," he hissed, tearing the cigarette from his lips and crushing it in his fist.

"Winston?" a gruff voice sounded above him and Dallas groaned. His cellmate, Tony, was awake. Great, Dallas thought, just fucking great.

"Nightmare again?" Tony asked.

Ain't you a fuckin' genius, Dallas wanted to say, but didn't. "Go back to sleep. It's still early," Dally said as he stretched out on the hard mattress.

"Ya know - you could talk to the prison shrink about it. He helped me out." Dally rolled his eyes, this guy was too much. Just my luck to end up in a cell with a loser who got caught stealin' hubcaps. Amateur, he thought. Hell, even Two-Bit's kid sister could lift a hubcap without gettin' caught. Now he'll want to have a heart-to-heart about how his momma never loved him. Pathetic.

"I ain't talking to no shrink. Shut your mouth and go back to sleep," he growled.

Tony seemed to have a death wish and wouldn't let the subject drop. "Just so you know," he said, "I'm getting tired of waking up in the middle of the night to your screams."

"I don't scream." Shit, did I scream?

"Whatever you say, man. Must have been my imagination."

Dally stared up at the underside of the bunk bed. A faint light picked up the delicate web a spider was building in the corner. A fly was caught, but the spider was biding its time, watching it suffer.

Dally rolled over and closed his eyes, wondering at what point in his life he'd gone from being the spider to being the fly.

Dally stood silently in the entrance of the psychologist's office. He couldn't believe he was here, that he'd come voluntarily.

The room was non-descript. Everything seemed to be brown and bland. Must of run out of gray, Dally grinned.

The guy behind the desk fit the room perfectly. Brown hair, slightly receding. Brown shirt, rolled up to his elbows. Brown tie, loosened at his neck. Brown eyes, full of just the right amount of manufactured warmth and concern.

He stood when Dallas walked in. "You must be Dallas Winston," he said as he extended his hand. Dally kept his hands in his pockets and glowered.

He wanted knock the guy off balance, but it didn't work. The shrink simply smiled and took his seat. Dally noticed the nameplate on his desk. Dr. Robert Brown. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

"Have a seat, please."

Dally didn't react and continued to stand.

"Fine," the doctor said. "You can stand. If that makes you feel better."

"Is that how this is going to be?" Dally asked as he yanked the chair back and sat down. "Are you gonna sit there and analyze everything I say or do?"

"Well," Dr. Brown said with a smile, "it is my job."

"Shitty job, if you ask me," Dally said as he rocked the chair onto its back legs.

Dr. Brown looked down at the open file on his desk. "Yes, I suppose robbing convenience stores is a much more worthwhile pursuit."

Dally shrugged. "At least I don't gotta wear a tie."

The doctor ignored his comment and continued reading the papers in front of him. "About that convenience store robbery - I was wondering - did you know the gun wasn't loaded?"

Dally's face grew stony. "Yeah, so?" he answered curtly. "Clerk didn't know."

"And neither did the cops." Dr. Brown picked up the police report. "It says here they told you repeatedly to drop it, but you refused. They had no choice but to shoot you."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Why not just surrender? Jail isn't anything new for you."

'Cause I wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, Dally thought. Go out on my terms, my way.

Dally didn't answer, though, but he had a feeling the doc knew.

"You were lucky, you know. You were given a second chance."

Dally gave a sharp laugh.

"Whatever you say, doc." Dally motioned with his arms, taking in the room and the jail as a whole. "That's what this place is, land of the second chances. Maybe, if I try real hard I can be a doctor, just like you, or a lawyer, or the fucking President of the United States of America."

"Why do you think the only future you have is to be a thug? You can do anything you set your mind to." Dr. Brown leaned back in his chair and gave a small chuckle. "Well, except maybe become President."

"You're jokin' right? Where I'm from you don't become a doctor or a lawyer. You're lucky if you graduate high school. Greasers never think about the future. It's useless."

"Is that what you would tell Ponyboy and Johnny?" The question startled Dally and he let the chair drop forward.

"They're the boys from the fire, right?" the doctor continued. "You helped them save a bunch of little kids? Not exactly the act of a thug."

"Naw, you got it wrong, doc. I was tryin' to fix the mess they got themselves into. I don't give a damn about some stupid little kids."

The doctor just looked at him, studied him. For the first time in his life, Dallas felt like squirming in his seat.

"Is that what your nightmares are about? The fire? Your cellmate said you'd been waking up screaming at night."

Dally shifted in the chair. "Tony's full of shit."

Dr. Brown grinned. "Maybe about some things. But I think he's right about this. Tell me about your dream."

"What, no couch to lie down on?" The doctor picked up his notepad and a pen and looked at Dally, silently telling him to begin. "Fine, the dream … yeah, it's the fire."

"What about the fire?"

"I'm trying to find Johnny, but the smoke's too thick. He's screaming." Remembering, Dally took a deep breath. "I find him, but the roof collapses and I'm too late."

"But you weren't too late, you saved him."

"No, doc, I was too late. You talk about futures. Well, talk to Johnny, then. He's stuck in a wheelchair, in a shitty town, with shitty parents. That's my fault," Dally said angrily, pointing at his own chest. "I was too late."

Dally pushed himself out of the chair. "This is a fuckin' joke. I'm outta here." He started to walk toward the door.

"Dallas," the doctor said before he could leave, "when you get back to your cell, take a good look around." Dally stopped, his hand on the doorknob.

"Right now, you've got four months left. Next time, it might be two years. The time after that, maybe more like a dozen. Take a good long look, because I guarantee you, with the path you've chosen - at some point - you'll never leave that cell."

Dally didn't say anything. He left the office, slamming the door behind him.