Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders or the song Back in Black.

A/N: This is the second part of the story. It's nowhere near half-way through but, hey, does it have to be? I'm doing something different with the format of the story so that's why I had to divide it into two parts.

Big thanks to benignmilitancy for giving me some brilliant advice and looking at this chapter for me.

As if the song title doesn't already tell you -

Part 2: I'm Alive

Back in black. I hit the sack. I've been too long I'm glad to be back. Yes, I'm let loose. From the noose that's kept me hanging about. I've been looking at the sky. 'Cause it's gettin' me high. Forget the hearse 'cause I never die. I got nine lives. Cat's eyes. Abusin' every one of them and running wild.

It's warmer outside than it was when I went in. I feel the cool spring air hit me as I make my way down the steps of the jail house. There's supposed to be a car waiting for me but of course there isn't.

I'm tempted to just call Shepard and have him come by but I know he won't or give me some shit on the way home. So I just take a seat on one of the steps and light a cigarette and think of a way to get where I'm going.

There's a little old lady on the bench on the sidewalk down below me. She's heavy seat and has her frizzy gray hair pinned up in a tight bun. She's feeding the birds. I've seen her here before. She comes twice a week with two loafs of bread and sits there all day and reads some dumb book she's picked up at the library down the road. I've seen her go in there every Friday since I got here.

I blow out a cloud of smoke and continue to watch her.

It's two and I'm supposed to be somewhere by three. It wouldn't be a problem if I just had my stupid car. My stupid car that I had to use because Ronnie was too much of a pansy to use his. So it was me who drove my car into Sam's and it was me who had to make sure not to hit it wrong, and it was me who spent all night fixing it. Ron was supposed to fix it for me. That was the deal. Make it good as new. But that was before he ran off and picked up that broad.

My cigarette's gone and I search my pockets for another one but I'm all out. I think about going down and asking the bird lady for one but I doubt she smokes. Not the type.

I stand up and stretch out. The clothes I'm wearing are the ones I wore when I came in because no one came by to give me any more. The clothes are too small because of the new muscle I've gained. I'm not complaining any.

I scratch my stomach and realize how badly I want a double greasy cheese burger.

I walk over to bird lady. She's singing to herself as she watches the birds hop around in front of her. She's leaning across her cane and smiling away.

"Hey, you got a few bucks on you?"

She doesn't look up at me. She doesn't take her eyes off the birds. She doesn't even stop singing. She's bobbing her head back and forth like she's at her very own concert and there's music all around us.

I clear my throat and lean closer. "Hey! Do ya got a few bucks on ya, lady?"

She stops singing but she's still not looking at me and she still has that stupid grin on her face. I start to wonder how retarded she really is.

I'm right in her ear now. "Can I have some money?"

She starts talking to the birds and throws more bread out to them.

"I know you can hear me," I say, using a threatening tone. Any other old lady would give me her whole purse seeing as how I just got out of jail and could snap her neck in two in a matter of seconds.

She goes back to bobbing her head back and forth. She's happy. She looks like one of those mental patients in those movies. The really bad ones who are all happy one minute and then screaming at the top of their lungs the next. She's starting to freak me out so I give up and start walking down the road.

"How much?" she stops me, happily grinning at the birds.

I turn around and she's still not looking at me. Only at those stupid birds who are too brain dead to fly away from the crazy bat. "Couple dimes."

She digs in her purse and rattles the coins at me. "How old are you?"

I reach out and snatch the money from her before she can change her mind. "What's it to ya?"

"I've seen you playing ball in there," she says, throwing more bread and letting three birds fight over it. She laughs at them and throws two pieces to the ones that didn't get it. "Fine boy."

I stare at her. She hasn't looked at me yet. If she didn't know better, I could have been Elvis himself standing in front of her. "Sure."

"Where are you going?" she asks politely. "Are you going to Tulsa? I love Tulsa. Such a fine place. Fine place."

"You're in Tulsa, sweets."

She starts to sing again like I've upset her or something and she doesn't want to talk to me and goes back to feeding the birds and giggling like a little girl.

I run my hand through my hair and inch away from her. "Yeah. Thanks for the money, sugar."

"Nice, nice, nice, nice, boy. Nice." She keeps repeating the word 'nice' even as I make my way down the street. I get far enough away to where I don't even hear her anymore and pick up the pace some.

I clinch my money in my hand and make my way over to Bill's Burgers, my mouth watering as I picture biting into the first real food I've eaten in three long months.

"Really? You couldn't wait? Where did ya get the money at anyway, kid?"

Rick is standing in front of me while I lick the sauce off my fingers. The money bought me three burgers and a soda and I'm still wanting more. I should of asked the crazy broad for a little extra cash. She seemed pretty willing.

"How does it feel to finally get out? How many times does that make now? Going for the record or somthin'?"

I'm at Rick's house on the edge of town. He's letting me stay here for cheap rent. I met him at a race a few years ago when he broke his leg and I carried him out. Says he owes me a favor so I hit him up yesterday for a place to crash.

I dig into my last burger and practically purr as the warm meat and cheesy flavor takes over my mouth. "Five."

"Did you walk here?" he asks, cleaning up the mess I've made on his freshly wooden table. Rick's a real neat freak. His house doesn't have an inch of dirt anywhere and if there so happens to be some, it doesn't last long.

"Yeah," I say, taking a sip of my coke. Cokes are one of the many things I've missed. The bubbling as it goes down your wind pipe and the cool, crisp taste. "Thought I'd see what changed since I've been gone. Ain't nothin'."

Rick's a big guy. He probably weighs two-forty and none of it's fat either. He's got a rough complexion and keeps to himself most of the time. A lot of people in town stay away from him just by the way he looks but Rick wouldn't do anything to anyone. He's just a gentle giant most of the time. He likes horses and cars. That's about it.

Rick wipes the sticky stuff off the table with a wet wipe, maneuvering around me. "Listen, there's some things I want to go over now that you're staying here."

I lick the red ketchup that's running down my arm, making him gag and turn away. I snicker. "Like what...Mom?"

He casually shrugs. "Rules and stuff I suppose. I'm in charge of you now I guess. That's what your parole officer said anyway when she came by."

Martha is my officer. She's been for years. Every time I get locked up and then get set free, there is Martha with a new stack of rules and regulations I have to follow. She's the reason I didn't go to Texas after I got out like I'd planned.

"What am I?" I ask, stuffing the last bite into my mouth. "I ain't a kid but go ahead, Ma. Give me the rules."

Rick shakes his head and throws me a wet wipe that I use for my face and chuck it into the trash. "You're nineteen. Key word is teen. So yeah, you're technically still a kid, big guy."

I cock an eyebrow. "And?"

"I just have a few simple rules," he explains. "Nothing that should bother you too much. If you like living here, I suggest you follow them. I ain't gonna babysit you, Winston."

I don't know what makes him think I'll follow any but I'll give him a shot. "Like?"

"Well for starters, I would like you to be home before morning if you're coming home at all. I'm a light sleeper and I have work real early and I don't want you making racket when you come in late stomping around and waking me up."

I cross my legs and listen to the rest. I really want a cigarette...and another sandwich.

"Also, everything in the fridge is yours but you're chippin' in for food every now and again. I ain't loaded with cash, as you can tell, and I'm not feeding an army. And no drugs in my house. None. You'll be out in a heartbeat."

"Hey, man," I say, leaning back in my chair and using my arms as a pillow. "I'm not into that white trash crap. You know that."

Rick rubs his face like he's heard this all before. "Good. Then we won't have a problem, will we?"

"You think you can get me a job?" I ask. "Seein' as how I'm gonna be payin' for my own food and all apparently."

Rick raises his eyebrows this time and smirks. He looks me over, studying me. "What are you good at? If anythin'."

"Funny," I smart off. "Dunno. Anythin'. Anythin' that'll pay."

"You good at fixin' cars by chance?"

"How was jail?"

He sounds happy to finally hear from me. He's sent letters by the dozen apologizing over and over again and going on and about how thankful he was to have me like we were Kennedy brothers or something even though when he came down was the first time I'd seen him in two years.

I lean against the wall and press the phone up to my ear. I slide my knife over the top layer of my nails, digging it in and scrapping out the loose dirt inside. "Swell. How do you think, dumbass?"

"I'm sorry," he says again. "I got some of your letters. It didn't sound that bad, Dal."

I press the blade against another nail, slicing some of my finger as I do. Blood runs out and coats the knife. I swear and suck on it, tasting the metallic sourness of the blood.

"Emily said she brought you some cake one time," he goes on like it's supposed to mean something that the girl is still holding on to us like a stray cat. "Did she?"

"Yeah," I say bitterly. I suck the sing out of my finger until the bleeding stops. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from her?"

"I'm not seeing her," he clears up. "I haven't seen her since that day at the station. We just write every now and again. You never did say I couldn't do that."

I wipe the sweat that starting up on my forehead. Stupid punk ass kid. "Stay away means to stay away. Like no contact with the dumb broad. What does she want with you anyway? You're miles away from her."

"She likes me," he says proudly and I can see that stupid grin on his face. The one that all guys get when they've scored big. I wonder if they've actually fucked yet. Nah. Not Ms. Matthews.

"I thought her big brother told you to stay away from her too. Two-Bit? 'Member him? The guy who kicked your ass at the Curtis' that day. How come he ain't come up there and smashed your sorry face in himself?"

"He doesn't know," he says, still beaming. "It's pretty boss. Like a love story kinda, ya know?"

I roll my eyes and go back to scrapping out my nails. Yeah, love story. Yeah. Right. "Did you do what I told you to?"

"Talk to Danni?" he asks, already knowing the answer. "She called me right after you did that day. I told her what you told me to say. She's really pushy. Wanted to know everything. 'Course I didn't tell her the obvious stuff. I about couldn't get her off the freakin' phone though."

I run the blade over the palm of my hand seeing how dull it's gotten since I've been gone. It couldn't cut through paper now. "And?"

"That's all," he reports. "I think her brother's sick. Emily said she overheard Two-Bit talking about it with someone the other day. She told me all about it in one of the letters. It's the older one. D-D-Darry?"

I toss the knife down on the counter. I lean forward and listen. "Yeah. What's wrong with 'im?"

"She doesn't know. She said she'd try to find out but she doesn't talk to that family anymore, ya know. They're not too keen on me neither. I don't guess you either now, huh?"

I sit on the chair propped up against the wall and rest a bit. "Anyone givin' you anymore trouble?"

"No," he answers plainly. "Why?"

"Not even Pops...or Maggot by chance?"

There's silence on the other end for a minute before he finally decides to answer. "No. Everything's fine here for now. It's been quiet really. What about down there? You talk to Dale yet?"

"Going to later," I say. "Don't worry 'bout it. Stay out of this mess. I didn't spend all my money and go to jail just so you can ruin it with some stupid broad. What have you been tellin' her anyway?"

"Nothing!" he yells, irritated that I brought her back up again. "Hey, lay off her. She's a nice chick. I really like her Dal. I ain't told her nothing. I've probably told Danni more so-"

"What did you tell her?" I jump up and put the phone on my other shoulder. "Say!"

Ronnie lets out a deep breath. "Calm down, ok? I ain't told her nothing you ain't told me...she sorta figured some stuff out on her own. She knows more than anyone else. I-I didn't think you'd care. She's the one who told me you two broke up by the way. What happened?"

I grind my teeth. I should have never trusted him with this. "What stuff did you tell her?"

"Man, she's really pushy!" he defends himself in a hurry. "You know that! I-I told her what you said to and she put some things together. Like the flower shop guy and why we were there and-"

"She knows?" I ask, calmly still grinding my teeth. I form a fist with my hand. "Goddamn, can you do anything right you little punk?"

I slam the phone down and hang up. I sit back down in the chair and think for a minute. Think of more lies I need to tell to dig myself out of this. This mess I'm still neck deep in after all this time.

I shoot up in my bed. Cold sweat is running down my neck and I've caused the neighbor dogs to start to wail. Rick yells to ask what's going on and I yell back, telling him to shut up and go back to bed.

I put my hands up to my face and wipe all the sweat off.

Jail isn't as charming of a place as the government makes it out to be. They don't know half the stuff that really goes on behind those hard stone walls. No one really cares. That's the main problem. To them we deserve it all.

I lie back in bed and stare up at the ceiling. It's storming outside and I can't go back to sleep. I start to think about New York. The murders, the dead bodies, the sirens. Ron would get screaming fits all the time, waking everyone in the damn house up when a cop car would blow by the apartment. Damn. It's funny to think that now.

As I got older, I starting seeing more than just the typical dead prostitute or homeless guy on the bench across the street. More blood, more rotting flesh. The smell is the worst. That's what I was told anyway. I saw more blood during those years than most cops do in a lifetime.

I rotate over to my side and stare at the clock and I start to wonder who's up at this hour.

I can hear Rick snoring through the paper thin walls. I wonder what Shepard's been up too. Is he still with that damn broad of his? Damn, what a body she has. I think about going to find him and a couple of the guys at Buck's but roll over to my back instead and let out a sigh.

I rub my face and get the rest of the sweat off. I look at the clock one last time and then decide to pick up the phone.

Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back. Well, I'm back, Yes I'm back. Well, I'm back, back. Well I'm back in black. Yes I'm back in black hooo yeah. Oh yeah. Yes I am. Oooh yeah, yeah Oh yeah. Back in now Well I'm back, I'm back.

A/N: Finally, right? ;) I've never written in a boy's point of view before so it's a new thing for me to get used to. I've gotten some amazing advice and I'm working on incorporating that into the next chapters.

Thank you so much for reading! Please review.