Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 21

He wanted to hit something. No, scratch that - he needed to hit something.

The kid had been released earlier today. The scene had been a touching one:

"See ya, Dallas. Keep out of trouble," Tony said cheerfully as he stepped through the door to the cell he'd been confined to for the past four months.

"Whatever. Get a fucking life, stupid, and try not to be such a loser," Dally offered as his own special brand of parting advice.

"Yeah, Winston, I'm gonna miss you, too."

Who would have thought he'd be stuck with someone even more pathetic than Tony and his feelings and his need to talk all-the-fucking-time?

Well, apparently someone in the Oklahoma penal system thought it'd be funny to place a sobbing, sniveling pansy in a cell with Dallas Winston. Torture, it seemed, was now permissible and they were determined to go to any lengths to make the remaining two months of his sentence as miserable as possible.

He'd had the cell to himself for two peaceful hours. There was no one there to question his every move, no one to try and start a conversation with him, no one to annoy the shit out of him just by breathing too loud. It was the best two hours he'd spent in a long time.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

"Got a new friend for ya here, Winston." The guard said as he unlocked the door and ushered in a new occupant.

"Don't need any more friends, if it's all the same to you," Dally said, taking a drag on a cigarette as he stood by the barred window, his back to the cell door.

The view sucked, but at least it wasn't gray cinderblocks The sun was setting but the sight left him unmoved - he couldn't see what Johnny had been talking about. Just some stupid colors, big deal. He thought for a moment that maybe he was colorblind, maybe there was just something he was missing.

All he saw was the sky getting dark, which to him was a good thing. Nighttime was when he thrived; he loved the darkness, loved the danger. He hated the daylight; it revealed things and made it harder to hide, harder to pretend. At night, he could imagine he was back in New York, the pulse of the big city beneath his feet.

Even in the fading light he could see his life in Tulsa for what it was, and right now all he saw was dirt with a few sad patches of brown grass. Everything was surrounded by a tall, chain link fence topped-off with a wicked looking coil of barbed wire. He'd never really thought about just how depressing it all really was - how cut off from the world he was in here.

"Yeah, well ya ain't got much choice in the matter seein' as how you're still a guest of the state for 60 more days," the guard said, interrupting his thoughts.

"58 days," Dally corrected under his breath. He heard the door close and he could sense a presence behind him, but he still didn't turn around. He wasn't in the mood for this right now. Two hours of peace and quiet weren't enough.

That peace was shattered by a pathetic whimper that sounded behind him. "Shit," Dally muttered. Grounding out the cigarette on the windowsill, he turned around.

His new roommate was standing in the corner, clutching his meager belongings while tears ran unchecked down his chubby cheeks. "Shit," Dally said again. "I don't need this right now."

He sat down on his bunk and shook his head. The kid didn't move. He just stood there, shaking and crying.

"Well, are ya just gonna stand there all goddamn night? You're creepin' me out, kid." Dally's annoyance was quickly turning to anger as the boy didn't respond and his sobbing grew louder.

"Winston, what the hell is that noise?" a disembodied voice sounded from the down the hall. It sounded like Shepard, but he wasn't sure.

"None of your fucking business is what that is," Dally hollered.

He looked at the kid, his eyes narrowing. "You quit that shit now or I'm gonna kill you myself." He nodded toward the door and the rows of cells beyond it. "Those guys'll eat you alive if you show 'em you're weak."

The kid wiped feebly at his tears, attempting to dry them on his sleeve. He gulped down his sobs, trying to make them stop. Dally rolled his eyes.

"My name is, um, George," the boy said, his voice shaking right along with his chubby frame.

Dally's response was a dismissive shrug. He didn't care what this kid's name was, all that mattered was that he stayed out of his way and left him alone. George apparently didn't get the message and kept talking.

"I'm here, uh, because I, uh, accidentally set my house on fire." He winced as he said it, either embarrassed about the fire or embarrassed that he felt the need to lie about it. "Wh -- what are you, uh, in here for?"

Dally smirked but his eyes remained cold. "I accidentally robbed a store with a gun. Then the fuzz accidentally shot me and I accidentally wound up in this shit-hole for six months."

"Oh," was George's response.

"Yeah," Dally said, "ain't life a bitch?"

George continued to stand, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to another.

"What happens now?" his voice sounded so small, almost like a whisper.

"Well, Georgie," Dally practically sneered, "you missed dinner, so pretty much all there is to do is sleep or stare at the wall. It's up to you."

"Wh -- what are you gonna do?"

"Seeing as how it's been a tiring day of doing nothin', I'm goin' to sleep."

Dally actually hadn't been planning on going to sleep, but he wanted away from this kid. Even though he couldn't stand him, he and Tony would usually play some poker or something for a couple of hours before they called "lights out". It seemed like all there was to do in jail was kill time.

"Top bunk's yours," he added as he stretched out on the lumpy mattress, effectively ending their conversation.

The boy awkwardly pulled himself up into his new bed. The springs above Dally dipped and groaned as George tried to get comfortable. Finally he settled and, despite a few sniffles, the cell grew quiet.

Dally closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. He had finally convinced his mind that he was tired when he heard it. It started with a muffled sob and soon devolved into a constant whimpering. The kid was obviously trying to keep it quiet, trying to hide the fact that he was bawling like a baby, but Dally couldn't not hear it. He tried to block it out, but it seemed to amplify the more he tried to ignore it.

Dally withstood it for two nights before he finally broke. The sound was burrowing into his brain, taking root and driving him crazy. This kid was wretched, an embarrassment. He had to fight the urge to hit him. He spent those sleepless nights imagining the demise of George - plotting it and planning it.

He really needed to fucking hit something.

Darkness. Emptiness. Silence.

At first it seemed like the perfect solution - get himself thrown into solitary confinement to escape his cell and his sad sack roommate.

He put his plan into motion during dinner. Some guy was walking down the aisle, minding his own business. Dally had no idea what the guys name was - he certainly had no beef with him, but he was an easy target. As the guy walked by his table, Dally stuck his foot out, tripping him and sending him sprawling onto the cement floor.

The harsh sound of clanging silverware and shattering china echoed off the cinderblock walls. A hush fell over the crowd of inmates as the toppled prisoner sat there, stunned. Every single guy in the cafeteria froze, waiting in anticipation to see what would happen next.

Dally could sense the wheels turning in the guy's mind, trying to figure out how in the hell he'd wound up on the floor. He swore he actually heard a "click" when the guy figured it out. He raised his head slowly, his beady little eyes meeting Dally's. Dally felt his blood start to hum, like before a rumble. He drew his hands into fists, prepared to strike.

Then all hell broke lose.

Dally got the first punch in. After that, it was all a blur - a manic, wonderful, violent blur. Fists were flying, along with dinner trays, plates, glasses, forks, and butter knives. Pretty much anything anyone could get their hands on.

Dally suffered a few well-placed hits from some unknown opponents. Apparently, getting hit in ribs that had recently healed from a gunshot wound hurt like hell. A cut above his eyebrow was bleeding into his eyes, obscuring his vision but he didn't care. His knuckles were swollen and it felt like he might have broken a bone in his hand, but he was laughing like a madman, thriving on the mayhem.

The guards soon swarmed in. It took three of them to pull Dally to the ground. One of them put his knee in the middle of Dally's back, roughly pulling his arms behind him to place his wrists in handcuffs. Dally didn't stop grinning for a second.

After a quick stop in the prison infirmary to stitch up his brow, check his hand to rule out broken bones, and tape up his ribs, he was unceremoniously dumped in here … Solitary Confinement.

"Five days," the guard had sneered. His sneer turned to a look of confusion when Dally thanked him in what could only be described as a heartfelt manner.

His plan worked.

Day one - he got the best night's sleep he'd had since Ponyboy and Johnny had shown up on Buck's doorstep, desperate for help.

Day two - he spent smoking cigarettes and thinking about his plans with Shepard once he was released.

Day three - he smoked some more and thought some more, but soon found he was running out of things to think about and he was getting a little sick of cigarettes.

It was on the fourth day that he was beginning to question his plan.

Somehow, he had managed not to think about the gang. Not much, anyway. But on day four, he couldn't seem to shake them.

They were in the cell with him.

Darry was sitting on the only chair in the room, reading the paper. Soda and Steve were leaning against the wall, talking. Two-Bit was bugging Pony, who was sitting in the corner trying to read a book. They seemed so real; like he could have a conversation with them if he wanted to - which he most certainly did not.

And Johnny … Johnny was sitting in a wheelchair directly in front of him, staring - his dark eyes huge and sad. "Stay gold, Dally," he suddenly said and Dally almost toppled off bed.

Dally closed his eyes, willing the images gone from the room. He opened them and he was alone once again.

"Goddamn it," he said angrily as he stood and began pacing. "What the hell was that?" he asked the emptiness. The emptiness didn't answer.

He reached into a pocket on his pants to pull out a cigarette when a folded piece of paper fell on the floor. Johnny's letter. Dally stared at it, not wanting to pick it up. For some reason he felt compelled to put it in his pocket everyday - he didn't know why.

He laughed without humor, the sound echoing down the hall, bouncing off the cold walls. "This is nuts. Just a stupid piece of paper," he said out loud as he bent down and picked it up.

Sitting on the cot, he opened the letter but didn't read it. He thought of Johnny. His trial had been a couple a days ago and he had no idea what the outcome had been. Was Johnny like George? Stuck in a cell with some hard-ass greaser, scared out of his mind?

"What the hell do I care?" Dally asked the silence.

Setting the letter aside, he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit a match. He stopped for a second, match in hand, and picked up the letter again. He held the corner to the flame, thinking that destroying it would clear his mind; prove he was still the same Dallas Winston who didn't care about anyone but himself.

He couldn't do it. The match burnt down, scorching his fingers. The letter remained intact, unharmed - mocking him, telling him he was weak.

"Fuck this," Dally said as he crumbled the paper in his fist and tossed it carelessly into the corner of the cell.

On the fifth and final day, Dally had a visitor. It wasn't the usual guard who escorted him to the showers in the morning, or the guy who brought him his three square meals a day. This visitor was a surprise to Dally. It was Dr. Brown.

"Wow, Doc, you makin' house calls now?" Dally asked as he loped over to the barred door. "I'm honored."

"Don't flatter yourself, Dallas. I like to check on the prisoners in solitary, especially the ones I'm surprised to find there in the first place." Dr. Brown stepped aside as a guard unlocked the door, allowing him to enter the cell.

Dally sat on the cot, leaning back against the wall, looking bored. Dr. Brown took a seat in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Surprised to find me here?" Dally asked in a sarcastic tone, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "And you call yourself a shrink."

"Actually, you call me a shrink. I call myself a psychologist."

Dally laughed, "Yeah, a shrink."

"As I was saying," the doctor said, trying to regain control of the conversation, "I am surprised to find you placed in solitary confinement. I checked your file --"

Dally groaned. "What do ya do, Doc, sleep with that thing under your pillow? You gotta get yourself some hobbies or maybe you just gotta get laid. How are things with the wife? 'Cause I know this one broad, man, and if you want - I can give her a call. She'll take your mind off of just about anything, and she don't even charge that much."

Dr. Brown ignored him. "Your file said that you don't usually act up when you're incarcerated. In fact, last time you were released early because of good behavior." The doc gave a small chuckle when he said that.

"What's so funny?" Dally asked.

"Oh, I just never thought I'd see the day that the words Good Behavior and Dallas Winston would be on the same page. Quite the oxymoron there."

"Who the hell you callin' a moron, you son of a --"

Dr. Brown laughed again, cutting off Dally and his insult. Dally didn't see what was so funny.

"Why did you start the fight, Dallas?" Dr. Brown asked, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

Dally tilted his head back, making like he was studying something on the ceiling. He shrugged. "Don't know. Just felt like it, I guess. Guy's face was pissin' me off."

"According him, he doesn't even know who you are."

"Sometimes you just gotta blow off some steam, ya know? No big deal."

"You're lucky the judge didn't add more time to your sentence."

Dally grinned. "That's me, Doc, lucky."

"What are your plans once you get out of here? Only 60 more days left."

"50 days," Dally corrected. "And to answer your question - I don't know what I'm gonna do after I get out of here. But I'm sure you've got loads of suggestions, so bring it on, Doc."

"We both know I'd just be wasting my time and yours. You don't seem to care about bettering your life."

"Now you're catching on. I knew these sessions would straighten you out," Dally said with exaggerated seriousness. "I'll send you the bill."

A guard stepped up to the door, signaling the end of the impromptu session. Dr. Brown nodded toward the guard. "He's here to escort you back to your cell."

Dally quickly gathered the few meager personal belongings he had with him and headed for the door. Dr. Brown stopped him before he could leave.

"In case you were wondering, you got a letter from Ponyboy the other day," the doctor said and Dally kept his face blank. So what if he got a letter from the kid?

"I thought you might like to know that Johnny Cade was found not guilty."

Dally shrugged before stepping through the cell door. He turned to look back at the doctor.

"Good for him, but I don't give a shit one way or the other, " Dally said coldly.

At first, the doc didn't answer him. He just looked at him, studied him. Then a knowing smile spread across his face.

"You're a lousy liar, kid."

A/N - Well, I hadn't written about Dally for a while. I know - not much happening in prison, but I couldn't let another chapter go by without seeing what he was up to, lol. Don't worry, the next time he shows up, he'll be released and free to cause trouble :-)

Thanks for all the reviews. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter.