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

Chapter Nine: How Do I Begin?

Dallas stood in shock, tracing the outline of where his Christopher would dangle at his collar bone. His breath hitched, he wasn't going to cry, no, but he was still caught off guard by the whole situation. Thoughts and damning comments flooded his mind, questions he never posed about him and Doc.

He wanted to go after her, to grab her hand, turn her around, and tell her why she shouldn't go. Despite his thoughts, the need that he should go to her, his feet stood still, binding him to the road. 

Dally wasn't one to apologize, not at all. His pride was too high for him to even think of it, but for once in his life. For once, he felt the need to just begin in saying something about his wrong doings. But how would he even begin? How could Doc ever accept him, after all he did? Doc said it herself, she couldn't forgive him. 

He needed ideas, what he could do to just say he was sorry, without stepping down enough to say it. What would girls like her enjoy? Food, presents, anything. He just needed an idea, but he wasn't that kind of guy. Dallas Winston wasn't a soft guy, he was rough, building his life upon the teachings he was forced to learn in New York. 

All he could do was turn around, and for the first time in a long while, ask his gang for something. How he could begin to make it up to Doc after all those years. 

His hand slammed the door open, the gang turned their heads quickly, silent, as they stared at Dallas. He growled at their response, they didn't need to be concerned about him, he didn't like them to.

"Just shut up and do me a favor, will you," Dally asked them all, to which they tilted their heads, slowly nodding. It was odd to see him ask for help. 

"What'd you want, Dal," Johnny finally asked. He was the closest to Dally out of the entire gang, so it was only natural that he was the first one to ask that. Dally hung his head low, he didn't want to say what he really wanted, but he had to. For Doc. 

"Help me find a damn way to make it up to the gal," Dallas said, almost quietly, but he didn't want to look like some weak guy. He was tough, Dallas Winston, who held his voice with pride.

"Doc? Damn, Dal, finally. Took you long enough," Two said. He never was the type to hold his tongue. Dally glared daggers at him. "You know the woman, don't you know what she liked," he asked, confused by how a man who knew her for so long needed help dealing with her. 

"Shut it," Dally countered. He picked at his nails, slightly annoyed and embarrassed by the situation. After all this time, after all those memories started flooding back, he still knew her like the back of his hand. But time had changed her, he didn't know her like he used to, she was like a stranger to him now. 

She liked sweeter foods, always a sucker for the candy they rarely got to enjoy. Dally remembered that for her birthday, the guys had all saved up to buy her small candies, and she was so happy. She savored it all, rationing every bit. Candy and sweets were a rarity, they always lived by the little they had. 

Dallas then recalled another memory, one of her always liking the sound of guitar. Whenever they traveled about, people who played on the streets always made her stop and watch. A smile would always fill her face. Dally had saved up one year to buy a guitar, after Doc had gotten him into the sound of the instrument. She always had the brightest smile when he played. 

Another memory. One that tugged at his mind to think about. He knew he told the gang Doc's old nickname, but it was a bullshit story. Yes, she had patched them up, and that contributed to the nickname, but it wasn't just a nickname.

When they had first met Doc, Vinnie and Dallas were walking around New York, just looking for trouble. The pair strolled around, coming across people to pickpocket, shops to steal from, and filled their pockets. They had enough money to live off for a good few weeks. Then, they saw a girl, about their age, sitting alone on the street, a cup by her side, begging for money. Nobody would ever give, rarely would you see a person drop even a penny into the cup of a homeless person's. Everyone was hardly getting by as is on the rough streets, so they had nothing to give anyway.

Dallas and Vinnie thought nothing of it, walking by as everyone else did, until Vinnie felt a hand tug at his pant leg. It was a weak tug, one that barely held any strength, her hand thin, bone's visible from the thin, pale skin. She looked up at him, and she didn't have show sadness, begging, pleading, just a look of dullness. Vinnie was always the soft one, and he gave in quick, crouching down to her height. Dally sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Got a name, doll," Vinnie asked. His tone was small, like how you would speak to a young child. She only shrugged, shaking her head all the while. Vinnie cocked an eyebrow. 

"You gotta have a name, or are you just not a talker," Vinnie tried to joke. He was always one to lighten the mood with humor. 

"No, I just don't have one, sorry," she mumbled weakly. Her voice was hoarse, like at any second, it would go away completely. Vinnie nodded, he had a sympathetic look in his eyes. He didn't hesitate to ask his next question.

"How 'bout you come with us, 'aight? We gonna get a hotel up here, we got enough money for all of us." She jumped up, hugging Vinnie tight, nodding, a smile on her face. Complete strangers, could have done anything to the poor girl, but she was so desperate for a bed, people, anything, she took his offer. 

Dallas didn't like her much at first. He thought she was just there for the free room. She never spoke much, only giving head nods or shakes, or simple noises to signify her stance on things. She didn't do much either, she was so weak she barely could do anything. Vinnie always split his food with her. 

One day, though, she made Dallas come around to her. He had gotten into a rough fight, and Vinnie was passed out cold, but she was still awake. It was around 2 A.M. when he stumbled into the hotel, his face bloodied, a split lip, and side bruised heavily. He thought he would be able to patch himself up, and just pass out on the bed, but the girl had other intentions. 

As soon as she saw him, bruised and bloodied, she hurried off the bed, grabbing a first aid kit, and practically dragged him to the bathroom. Dallas tried to protest, but she didn't listen, just patched him up. It was a better job than either of the guys could do, and honestly made him feel 10 times better than when he came in. 

"If you ever get into a bad fight like that again, come get me. I don't mind patching you up, you don't gotta pay me or nothing! Just, please, let me keep stayin' with you? I'll do whatever you guys need, cooking, cleaning, money, I promise." 

With that, Dallas's opinion of her started to shift, plus having her help him out made him feel better towards her, too. Whenever he came in late, she was always waiting on him, ready to patch him up, same with Vinnie too. Later, it became the same with all of the gang. 

They had yet to even call her a name other than doll. One day, Vinnie and Dallas came up to her as she sat on the floor, watching TV in the motel. She looked up at them, cocking her head. 

"How you like a name, huh, doll," Vin asked, smirking, to which she nodded quickly, a smile making its way up to her face.

Vinnie looked at Dallas for an idea, and Dallas just shrugged, thinking of the first thing that popped in his head. 

"Uh, I dunno, Patches," he shrugged, to which Vinnie howled with laughter, slapping him on the back.

"We ain't namin' a dog, Dal! What about, oh! How about Mary, or Cynthia! I knew a girl named Cynthia, she was real nice!"

She just laughed too, but then looked at Dally, cracking the biggest smile, and said, "It sounds really nice, Dally. I'll go with that."

From then on, despite Vinnie's constant joking, that was her name. It suited her real good. She really liked it too.

Memories kept flooding back into Dally's mind, until he finally had enough of them, and simply smirked at the guys. 

"You know what, I think I'll do this on my own."

With that, he was gone, knowing what he had to do. He wasn't a sappy guy, or an emotional one, but he knew her for years. Since he was a kid. He couldn't let her slip away like that.