Disclaimer: I don't own Oliver Twist (the novel) Oliver! (the film) or any other things Oliver-related. I do, however, own this story and Katarina Bracken.

I just couldn't resist doing an Oliver story, particularly since I've just recently developed a slight obsession for it (after watching I'd Do Anything and re-watching the 1960's film, which I totally ADORE). This story would NOT leave me alone, so I just had to write the first chapter. It's going to be pretty much film-based, in terms of plot and character, but I hope you like it anyway!

Enjoy!


The streets of London town were busy. It was a mild spring day, just creeping out of winter, and the sky was stained a pale, calm blue. People were milling about, a busy day, with arguments over the price of fish and so on at the market stalls. Children dashed around the cobbled streets, laughing, the shouts and sounds of the city people all mingling together. Thin, wispy clouds drifting idly across the sky as though they had not a care in the world.

Which they didn't, since they were clouds.

Katarina Bracken or simply just 'Kat' stared up at the sky for a moment, before returning her attention to the noisy, crowded streets before her. People paid her little attention, hardly glancing her way as their hurried about their mid-day business, which suited her just fine. The girl was perched on a stone wall, her hands planted on either side of her as she watched the people to-ing and fro-ing in front of her.
While this was only Katarina's third or so day on her own in London, she was by no means unaccustomed to the hustle and bustle of the city.
She was, however, quite uneasy. And that was primarily for one very simple reason.

She was hungry.

There was also a second reason for the female's uneasiness, and it posed as a problem for the first reason.

She hadn't a shilling to her name.

Katarina was also by no means unaccustomed to taking things without paying for them, and she had no qualms about doing so- After all, plenty more where that came from. She doubted very much whether somebody would miss a current bun or a piece of fruit.

But she knew that she had to be careful. London had a reputation for pickpockets, and she did not want to get arrested shortly after arriving here. Especially since she knew there was nobody here to help her out of trouble- She was quite alone. Alone and with no earthly possessions (of particular value anyway).

But with the persistent gnawing sensation in her stomach and the self-assurance that she wasn't a novice, Kat made up her mind. Slipping off the wall, she pretended to amble down the street, with the air of one who knows where he or she is going and is in no particular hurry to do so. Almost as soon as she had adopted this, an opportunity promptly presented itself to the young girl.
Namely, a baker who was carrying a large tray of buns up the stairs.
Kat, glancing over her shoulder, leant forwards and snatched one, just as the baker rounded the corner. He hadn't noticed a thing, likely too preoccupied not to drop any buns to notice.

Kat smiled to herself for the first time that day before sinking her teeth into the bun, taking a sizeable chunk out of it before swallowing and licking her lips, the taste of victory almost as satisfying as the small cake. She directed her gaze upwards.

That's when she saw him.

A boy, who looked about the same age as Kat herself, was perched on a flight of steps a little way above Kat. A top hat sat upon a young, mischievous-looking face, with a snub nose, black hair and dark eyes.

He was dressed quite unusually- the strangest accessory of all being a large black top hat. He was staring at Kat, and did not look away when she caught him looking.
This peculiar match of looking continued for a few seconds, until Kat eventually decided that his staring was getting wearisome. She had a sneaking suspicion that his sudden interest had something to do with her stolen bun. Her eyes flicked away from his for a moment then back again.

Kat shot him a look that was both wary and judging and opted to slink off.



But then again. Kat thought to herself as she stuffed the remainder of the bun into her mouth, licking the heels of her hands, I s'pose I haven't got the grounds to say 'e's dressed funny.

Smoothing down her own jacket, a little self-consciously, Kat hurried on down the now-empty side streets, feeling slightly nervous. That boy had certainly been paying her too much attention- could he have been getting ready to tell on her?

For all of the remainder of that day, Katarina was uneasy. She had a feeling that she had got off lightly with her pastry thieving, and now she had an unshakeable notion that she was being watched. This idea caused Kat to decide to leave town quickly- for now, she could be content with the current bun. Pulling the soft rim of her cap further down over her eyes, Kat glanced around, recognising the thin, grey streets now.

But just as Kat was leaving the heart of the bustle and was slipping off into another part of town, she suddenly heard a voice above her.

"Oi."

Stopping, Kat looked around. Then she saw, to her immense surprise, the boy from before sitting up on a ledge. With a smile that matched his face, he promptly jumped down from the ledge he was perched on to land in front of Kat, blue coat tails flapping slightly behind him.

"Did you follow me 'ere?" Kat asked him, unsure of whether to be indignant or impressed. The boy grinned at her, which she took to be a 'yes'. Kat stared at him, then allowed a smile to break out onto her face.
"What's your name?" she asked him. The boy promptly swept off his hat as he said,
"Jack Dawkins is the name! Otherwise known by my more intimate associates as The Artful Dodger. Do I 'ave the pleasure of learnin' your name?"

"Katarina Bracken. Everyone calls me Kat." Kat replied, finding herself longing for another current bun. Katarina knew she oughtn't let her guard down so easily, she shouldn't be so trusting, but she was a young girl and she was alone. And this was a young boy, and he was alone too. And that was enough to let her whimsical, child-like curiosity to take hold.

Dodger grinned, seeing Kat's more open expression.

"I 'aven't seen you 'round these parts." he commentated, leaning back a little to get a good look at Kat. "Just come 'ere, 'ave you?"

"Yeah." admitted Kat, surprising herself, as she had not planned on telling anybody she was a newcomer. However, this boy seemed to be in the same boat, and therefore she felt a somewhat automatic kinship towards this particular boy. "I've only been 'ere half a week. I've been sleepin' in the park."

"Dodgy area, that." remarked Dodger, which made Kat's lip twitch. "Why're you stayin' there?"

"Don't 'ave anywhere else to go." replied Kat, shrugging. She knew perfectly well she could not sleep in a tree for the rest of her life, but she was at a loss as to what else to do with her current situation. Dodger eyed Kat thoughtfully for a moment as Kat looked at her hands for any leftover crumbs.

"Tell you what." Dodger then said, apparently making a decision, "I 'appen to know a place where you can stay. It's owned by a...respectable old gentleman by the name of Fagin. I 'appen to be a favourite of Fagin's."

Kat thought that it sounded much better then sleeping in a tree, and so she smiled at the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed and turned to Dodger.
"Show me the way!"


"Are we nearly there?" Kat called after Dodger, a few paces in front of her.
"Nearly!" he called back, rounding the corner.

As Kat followed, she sat in front of her what appeared to be a complicated structure, a mere shell of an abandoned old building. Dodger hurried up a set of wooden steps, heading into what looked like a collapsed archway. Kat stood behind him as he called upwards, apparently addressing the air;
"It's Dodger! Open up!"

Kat stared at him, but Dodger merely motioned for Kat to follow him up several more wooden steps.

Dodger reached a faded door, and pushed it open. The smell of dust, cigarette smoke and the night air greeted the pair of them. Dodger went in first, Kat following, her automatic reaction was simple curiosity. Inside, Kat peered around in unrestrained fascination. They appeared to be in some kind of old loft or attic. A horde of skinny, underfed children, mainly comprised of boys, regarded Kat with a combination of fascination, confusion and slight suspicion, but seemed to relax as Dodger greeted them, to which they responded cheerfully.

"I'm back, boys!" cried the Artful Dodger, as the other children milled around him.
"'Ey, Dodge! We were wonderin' were you got to!"
"Out thieving' again, 'ey Dodge?"

"Who's this?"
The attention went to Kat, who fidgeted under the abrupt scrutiny.
"Who's the new kid?"

Dodger pulled Kat forward by the wrist, into the centre of the room, holding her arm up as though she had just won a boxing match, a smile sliding across Dodger's face. He let go and sat down at a long table, grabbing a roasted potato from a nearby plate. He introduced Kat, his mouth bulging slightly with the aforementioned vegetable.

"This is Kat. I found 'er in the streets. Thieving a current bun, no less!"

This was greeted by a small eruption of amusement, to which Kat protested, feeling suddenly awkward, tired and relatively out-of-place in a room that seemed to be filled with boys.

"I was 'ungry!" defended Kat, feeling slowly more and more like she was being cross-examined. Dodger, however, slapped his knee and roared with laughter, and a couple of the other boys chuckled appreciatively.

"Listen to 'er!" cried Dodger, jabbing a finger at a thoroughly confused Kat. "'I was 'ungry!' Well, we're all 'ungry 'ere! You'll fit right in!"
"When can I meet Fagin?" Kat demanded, licking her fingers and narrowing her eyes at Dodger, as she still felt she was being mocked. Dodger eventually controlled his chortling to answer the girl's question.

"All in good time, all in good time." Dodger replied, infuriatingly.
A couple of the boys had already lost interest in the new arrival, and had promptly started up a game of cards. Kat rolled her eyes to the ceiling, thinking that if there was some sort of initiation process, she wished that it would bleedin' well hurry up.
But then, as if on queue, an obscured figure came scuffling out from a large cloud of steam, although Kat could distinctly make out a large hat.

This, thought Kat, standing up as the figure of a man came into view, must be Mr. Fagin.

"And who do we have here, Dodger?" Fagin asked, sounding somewhat amused, looking at Dodger, then returning his gaze to Kat. Dodger promptly stood up, clapping Kat genially on the shoulder,
"This, Fagin, is Katarina Bracken. She only came 'ere a coupla days ago."
"It's just Kat." Kat amended, embarrassed by Dodger's formal introduction. Dodger, however, seemed quite oblivious to Kat's discomfort. Fagin squinted, then beckoned Kat for her to come closer, saying as he did so,
"A little closer, my dear, a little closer, so I can see you prop'ly."

Nonplussed, Kat did as she was told.

And Fagin knew- Perhaps thievery's instinct, or perhaps it was after so many years of rearing miniature pick-pockets for so long- But Fagin knew, as soon as Kat stepped forward and looked at him, that this girl would make a good one.

It wasn't that she was pretty- because that wasn't the word that fit her best. But there was a certain look to her face, with her white skin, deep green eyes and quizzical expression, which reminded him, strangely, of Dodger. The beguiling, slightly impish cheek that her face seemed to naturally possess...it portrayed a clearly misleading image of innocence.

Fagin's eventually moved off Kat's face, taking in the rest of her. She was typically thin, wan, and under-fed. Very pale.

Dark, chocolate-coloured hair travelled to just slightly above the girl's torso. Her clothes would have been more suited on a labour boy- Kat wore black-grey trousers (which she had to keep hitching up in order to prevent them slipping off her bony hip- They were at least two sizes too big, held up by a fraying piece of rope.) On her upper-body she wore a jacket the same colour as the trousers, plus a faded red shirt that was ripped slightly at the shoulder. A black cap sat on her head, and on her feet were rather large, scuffed boots.

Yes. All in all, Fagin could see quite clearly why Dodger had picked this oddly dressed one. He smiled.

Another gem to polish, it would seem.

"Well, now, Katarina Bracken. A new friend of Dodger's is always welcome." Fagin said genially, and the girl smiled at this warm greeting. "I expect you're exhausted, 'avin' only been in the City a few days! Am I correct?"

"Yes, that's right." Kat agreed placidly, the word 'exhausted' seeming to prompt her eyelids into drooping. She forced herself to keep them open. "I've bin sleepin' in the park."

"The park!" cried Fagin, shaking his head, "Not a nice place for a young 'un to be, my dear, not at all. No, you won't be going' back there."

Fagin addressed the group as a whole, Kat watching in a bemused sort of way,
"Get to bed, all of you! Busy day ahead!"

With general noises of complaint, the boys stopped whatever they were doing and began making the way to their individual beds, some shoving another boy over for more space, others complaining their blanket had been stolen. Seeing that she was nearly out of it as it was, Fagin steered Kat toward a small makeshift bed, relatively nearby Dodger's.

"You sleep 'ere, my dear. Right 'ere."

"Thank you, Mr. Fagin." Kat intoned, accepting the blanket that Fagin handed her. Propping herself up on her elbows, Kat removed her hat (hanging it on a nearby nail) and pulled off her boots. Settling back down, Kat closed her eyes, distantly hearing Fagin say,

"Well then. Sweet dreams, Katarina."

"Sweet-" Katarina began, but sleep came to her to quickly she barely had time to finish the word, let alone the sentence. Fagin smiled to himself slightly at this, before turning and leaving her to it, as Kat's sleepy mind drifted into a dream.



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