Note: I don't own The Outsiders

Chapter 25

Awkward didn't begin to sum up how Dally was feeling standing outside that familiar screen door - fucking stupid was more like it.

Shepard dropped him off and he bounded up the steps without a thought, same as always. He reached out for the door, no big deal; then suddenly he stopped. It was the stopping that screwed everything up. He had no idea why he hesitated, why his hands started to shake. But suddenly, without thinking, he was taking a step back from the door - like a coward backing out of a fight.

He fisted his hands, wanting to hit something - maybe a brick wall, maybe a tree, maybe a plate glass window - hit something until his knuckles bled and pain replaced this shaky uneasiness that had crept up on him.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a deep drag. That calmed him somewhat, which pissed him off even more. He shouldn't need calming - he was tough, nothing bothered him, nothing ever got to him. Liar, a voice whispered in his head and he ran an unsteady hand through his hair and began to pace, the old planks of the porch creaking with each step.

The door opened and he barely noticed. It was Darry.

"Dallas," he simply stated.

"Darry," Dally replied, his voice flat. He leaned against the railing, trying to appear nonchalant as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

"What are you doing out here?" Darry asked. "It looks like you're casing the place or something. Get in here before one of the neighbors gets the wrong idea and thinks we have something worth stealing."

Dally smiled because Darry would have expected him to. He dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot.

"Sure thing, Darry. Just grabbing a quick smoke," he explained as he brushed past his friend and entered the house.

"Well, what d'ya know - the prodigal hoodlum returns," Two-Bit announced cheerfully as Dally stepped through the door.

Everyone was in the family room, looking at him expectantly. He didn't say anything at first, simply nodded - allowing his cool demeanor to do all the talking. They were used to it - it wasn't like he was a Chatty Kathy on his best days - so hopefully no one thought he was acting strangely.

Pony and Soda were lounging on the couch, Two-Bit was on the floor with his back propped up against couch, Steve was sitting in the old armchair, Darry was standing in the doorway, and Johnny … Johnny was sitting in a wheelchair.

The minute his gaze landed on the chair, a coldness swept over Dally and he heard a faint screaming as though it was coming from the back of the house. He recognized those screams - he'd heard them in jail, too - they weren't real, they were a figment of his fucked-up imagination. He became very still, trying to will the phantom sounds away without anyone being the wiser. Maybe he was going crazy? Well, if he was, he certainly didn't want anyone else to know about it.

As soon as the screams started, they stopped. Within seconds, Dally had himself convinced he hadn't heard anything in the first place.

Without a word, he made his way to the kitchen and snagged a beer from the fridge. Grabbing one of the kitchen chairs, he noticed the discarded playing cards on the table and assumed his arrival had interrupted one of the gang's marathon poker games. Seeing that calmed his somewhat, it proved everything was back to normal. He could picture everyone sitting around the table, laughing and arguing while he palmed the best cards and cheated his way to a win.

He made his way back into the room planted the chair on the floor and sat down, straddling the back of it. "So, did you guys miss me?" he said, forcing a grin, trying to convince himself he was fine. Pony and Soda exchanged a glance, but it was Two-Bit who spoke first.

"Of course we missed you, man. What was it? Six months?"

Dally shrugged and took a swig of beer, not really tasting it - it might as well have been water. "Was it that long? Didn't keep track."

Steve snorted in disbelief and Dally shot him a warning look.

"You should have called and let us know you were getting out today. Me or Two-Bit would have come to get you," Darry said as he made his way to the couch, making his brothers move so he'd have room to sit, causing Ponyboy to accidentally plant a knee in the back of Two-Bit's head.

"Shepard gave me a lift." Darry grew tense at the mention of Tim, and Dally remembered the reason for Tim's latest stint behind bars. Maybe it would do Darry good to remember that him and Shepard were cut from the same cloth. You let your guard down around either one of them and you're liable to find yourself disappointed, or worse.

"How is ol' Tim these days?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, Dally, how is ol' Tim?" Darry asked evenly.

Dally folded his arms across the back of the chair, the beer bottle dangling from his fingertips. "Lookin' into some new business prospects. Takin' on some new partners if any of you are interested."

"Thanks for the offer, Dally," Darry said, slowly crossing his arms over his chest - a silent warning to not contradict him. "But everyone here is too busy with school or work to get involved in anything Tim Shepard would be offering."

Dally simply grinned and took another sip of beer. "Your loss, man."

Ponyboy decided it was his turn to speak up. "Johnny's got some cool news, don't ya Johnny?"

Neither Johnny nor Dally responded and Pony continued… "Well … um, I'm not sure if you got the letter I wrote, or not. But Johnny was found not guilty."

"Good for you, kid," Dally said, glancing over at Johnny, but not really looking at him. Johnny simply stared back at him - a weird look on his face, like he was studying him. Pony didn't seem to notice the uneasiness that passed between his two friends and he continued on.

"Also, he's with a foster family now. They're pretty nice, right Johnny?" A small nod was the only answer Ponyboy received.

Dally took a long swig of his beer and stood up suddenly without acknowledging the news. He went into the kitchen to grab another drink.

"Uh … anyone else finding this whole thing a little awkward?" Soda whispered and Pony nudged him sharply in the ribs. "What? I'm serious. Was Dally body-snatched or brainwashed while in jail?"

"Sodapop, I dare you to ask Dallas Winston if he's a pod person," Steve said with a grin.

"Hell, I triple-dog-dare you," Two-Bit laughed. "You'll be in the hospital for a month."

"I can't be the only one who's noticed," Soda said earnestly.

"Nah, he was acting strange long before he went to jail," Ponyboy said quietly. He looked at Johnny who had a concerned look on his face. He'd told Johnny about Dally robbing the store and getting shot, but he'd left off the part about the gun not being loaded. None of the guys ever mentioned it; and, truthfully, none of them really knew what to make of it. Almost as though they didn't want to know what it meant.

Without a word, Johnny started to move his chair toward the kitchen. "Johnny …" Ponyboy whispered urgently after him.

"Soda's right, something's up," Johnny said, sounding more determined than anyone had ever heard him before.

Dally was leaning against the sink, looking out the window and smoking a cigarette. The sun was starting to come out from behind the clouds, but Dally didn't notice. He was staring blindly at a smudge on the glass, letting his eyes go out of focus as a thousand thoughts warred in his head. He couldn't hear any of them.

"Darry doesn't like it if you smoke in the house," Johnny spoke quietly behind him, breaking through the restless din.

"Good for Darry," Dally said without turning around, flicking his ashes into the sink.

"Everything okay, Dal?" Johnny sounded a little nervous and worried; guilt settled in Dally's stomach. He braced his hands on the counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white.

"I'm fine, kid," he answered curtly and he knew Johnny wouldn't believe him - hell, Two-Bit's kid sister could probably see right through him now. Maybe the doc was right, I am a lousy liar.

Johnny didn't say anything and Dally realized he would probably sit there in that room all day until Dally finally broke and said something. Well, he didn't have all day. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, tossing the butt into the sink. He swore he could hear the hiss of the water snuffing out the burning embers - loud as a gunshot in the darkness.

He turned and sat down at the table. At first, he focused his attention on the playing cards, absentmindedly picking them up and shuffling them with one hand. Johnny moved to the table, sitting opposite him - still not saying anything, waiting patiently. Slowly, Dally looked up, meeting the dark gaze of his friend - trying to keep his face blank.

He was afraid looking at Johnny - really looking at him - would bring back the screams, would bring back the smell of burning wood, would bring back that feeling of helplessness. He braced himself for it, but it never came and he nearly sighed with relief.

"I'm fine, kid," he repeated with false conviction.

"There's nothin' wrong with not being okay. You know that, right?" Johnny said, surprising Dally. Johnny almost never spoke up unless someone spoke to him first; he most certainly never questioned Dally or doubted what he said. Suddenly, he felt like he was back in the claustrophobic office with Doc Brown, being forced to talk about feelings and bullshit like that.

He didn't answer and Johnny's eyes grew sad. He looked down at his chair. "Is it this? Is it this stupid thing?" Johnny asked and Dally felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

"No, kid …"

"It just takes some getting used to," Johnny gave a weak smile. "Hell, I'm still getting used to it, but it ain't as bad as I thought it would be."

"Johnny, it ain't the chair - well, it is, but not the way you think." Dally stood and began to pace, running his fingers through his hair - trying to put into words what he even had a hard time explaining to himself. "It's my fault."

The words hung in the air.

"How is this your fault?"

"I should have stopped you from going in that church. I should have gotten you outta there sooner." He was back at the window again, but instead of the small, unkempt backyard, Dally was seeing a broken-down church - ominous dark smoke pouring out of the boarded-up windows.

"Those kids would of died. Pony might have died," Johnny said quietly.

Dally shrugged but didn't say anything.

"It was worth it, Dal," Johnny practically whispered. Dally immediately thought of the letter Ponyboy had sent him. It's worth saving those little kids. Tell Dally it's worth it. He just didn't see it - how could a couple of stupid kids be worth a busted back, how could they be worth dying even?

A car horn sounded outside the house, followed by Darry yelling, "Dallas, it's Shepard."

Dally looked at Johnny, realizing this conversation was far from over but not having any clue as to what to say next. The horn sounded again and he could picture Tim's face as he grew more and more impatient.

"I gotta go, kid," Dally said. He sounded almost apologetic. "I'll see ya around." Now it was Johnny's turn to remain mute as Dallas left the room and made his way out the front door.

"Johnny, is everything okay?" Ponyboy came into the kitchen, a look of concern on his face.

Johnny shrugged, trying to look indifferent but his eyes were full of worry.

"Everything's fine."