What's Up, Doc? (The Outsiders, Dallas Winston, Fanfiction)

Chapter Six: Scars and Secrets

Dallas let Doc stay the night. He didn't want her getting hurt. She slept soundly on the bed, curled up contently. She was fine, for once, in the presence of Dally, now.

Dallas woke up to the feeling of the bed shifting early in the morning. Doc was waking up, taking in her surroundings, before locking eyes with a half-asleep Dallas.

When she realized who was sleeping in the bed beside her, and where she was, Doc jumped up. She quickly left the bed, noticing she was half dressed, her jacket kicked off her. Doc must have kicked it off herself in her sleep. She didn't have time to stick around, she didn't want to stick around, she just ran out.

Dally had just stirred himself awake to notice her left behind jacket. He knew she probably wouldn't come back, so he picked it up, only to find interest in the tag peaking out. It had his name written on it. The ink was fading out, but it was still distinct enough to where you could read it. It was his hand writing too.

He remembered, finally, giving her the jacket. She had just given him her Saint Christopher a few days ago, and in turn, he decided to give her a jacket that didn't fit him anymore. It was still big on her, though.

Dallas rushed out the door, jacket in hand, to give it back to her. He wasn't used to being this nice, so he didn't even know how to approach her.

She was halfway out the door, her pace quickening by the second to fiddle with the door to get it open. Dallas quickly marched up behind her, but stopped when he locked eyes onto her back.

Doc was wearing a crop top, still, and it showed off a large scar that ran from top to bottom of her back. It looked awful, and he didn't know who did it to her. Probably a Soc. Damn them.

Dally grabbed her wrist before she could push open the door, she reeled her head around, facing him.

"What the fuck happened to your back? I bet it was some Soc, huh," he prodded. He wanted an answer. Now.

She refused to answer him, looking away, growling at him. He only gripped tighter.

"Tell me," he yelled, getting in her face.

She reluctantly gave in. His hand was gripping her too hard not to.

"You remember that rival gang? After you left, we didn't have nobody to help fend em off, and the rest of the gang split besides me and Vinnie. We were the only ones who thought you'd," she paused, looking into his eyes. She still missed him. "Then Vinnie died, and I was all alone. Gang found me, didn't have nobody there to help, and I got that. So, there. That's what happened."

"Doll, I didn't kn-," Doc cut him off.

"Of course you didn't know. Just shut up, you can't remember anything about me. About us," she mumbled the last part, but Dally heard it.

"What'd you mean about us? We were friends, doll," Dally emphasized the word friends.

"Dallas, you can't even remember what you said! What you did!"

"Then enlighten me," he said condescendingly.

"You said you loved me Dallas! You said I love you and just left a week later! Never came back at all! No phone calls, nothing! I sat up there waiting for you, and waiting, and I really loved you Dallas! I thought you'd do something, I thought you loved me too, but I guess not."

Dally was taken aback, looking at her. His mind had to catch up with everything, but her words knocked him upside the head. Everytime they met, she brought him a new terrible memory.

The one she was talking about was a night Doc wouldn't ever forget. Dally had taken her up to the hotel room the gang had gotten early, as he wanted to get out of the annoying place they were at before. Dal was just the slightest bit drunk, drunk enough to spill out that he loved her. Drunk enough to do something that made her think he really did love her. Drunk enough to- he didn't want to think about it.

"Doll, Patches, Doc, I was," he paused, thinking it over, whether or not to say the truth. But he had to get it out. "I was drunk that night. I thought you knew it didn't mean anything!"

Doc stood in shock, close to tears. She really did love him. She used to look at him as her protector, her everything, but he didn't look at her as the same. He never did.

Doc grabbed the jacket from his hands, glaring at him.

"You said it, you said it and I believed you! I believed every word that night! I waited for you in New York! I thought you'd come back to me, I just thought we could be together for once! But big, Dallas Winston can't love anybody, huh? Dallas Winston is too tough to say he loves anybody! Dallas Winston is a no good, terrible person, I should have never trusted! I almost died in New York waiting for you, and now I learn I didn't mean shit to you? Go fuck yourself Winston!"

Dally watched as she balled her hands into fists, tears pricking her eyes as she continued to yell. He knew he fucked up, he knew. He knew that his old friend, the one who thought she was going to have the perfect boyfriend, absolutely despised him. She hated him to the core. To the very depth of her being.

Out of nowhere, she brought her fist to his jaw, connecting it with a loud crack. It was sure to leave a bruise. She would have done more if Buck hadn't come over to see what the commotion was.

Buck turned the corner to see Dallas, clutching his jaw, and an unknown woman looking like she could burn his bar down. He chuckled, seeing his tough friend being brought down by some broad.

Buck, not understanding the situation, clapped Dally on the back, laughing.

"This Grease causing you trouble, sweetheart? You need some help," Buck joked.

"Yes. He is," Doc spat. Buck finally got that this wasn't just some joking situation.

"You ok, there, honey," he asked, before an idea popped in his head. He let out a chuckle, he could be real evil if he wanted.

"How 'bout I take you out, away from him, huh, Doll? I know a diner that'll get your mind off this real soon."

Doc glared at Dallas, before nodding, her squared shoulders giving away from their stiffness.

Dallas watched Buck take her out, by the hand, from the bar. Dallas watched somebody steal her away in such a vulnerable moment. If he didn't shape up, he'd lose her. This time, though, by her. She would leave him. He would have to watch her leave him like he did her. He had to shape up, and quick.