Hello there! This is not only my first work of Oliver Twist fiction, but it is also my first series here on the site. I hope you enjoy! Critiques are very welcome. However, flaming is NOT appreciated. Please enjoy! ^^

A few notes:

In this fiction, events and setting, as well as certain occurring events are based off the MUSICAL "Oliver!", NOT the novel by Charles Dickens.

Also, I OWN NOTHING. I do own a few characters that will be making their appearance, but I own NO Oliver Twist characters. Thank you.

In this story, you will be taken into London, England, in the 1830's. You will be switching points of view (POV) between various characters, mainly the 3 main characters- Fagin, Dodger, and Alpharetta. This story will consist of 3 acts. The first occurs BEFORE Oliver's appearance in the story, the second occurs AFTER Oliver leaves Fagin's group, and the third takes place a few years after act 2. Please enjoy.

ACT 1- WELCOME

Chapter 1- "Who Eva' Said Crime Don't Pay?"

DODGER'S POV

Scattered raindrops ran amongst the deep cracks of the old lodging's weathered windows, the wind howling mightily outside. A distressed Fagin stared, blindly, through the foggy glass into the wet, mangled streets of London. Tomorrow, Bill would be coming... And Fagin... He owed money; SERIOUS money. That, all of the young boys knew. However, none of the boys knew it better than Jack Dawkins, the Artful Dodger himself. He knew for sure that the money that Fagin owed was simply non-existent.

What was more, there would be no possible way of making ANY amount of money today... With the weather outdoors going about as it was, there was no possibility of pedestrians out on London's miserable streets.

Fagin's boys sat, warily, around the lone wooden table in the lonely den, a plate of steaming, untouched sausages sitting solemnly at it's center, mugs of undrained gin scattered on the dreary surface. An eerie silence creeped through the musty den as their caretaker continued to marvel, defeated, at the weather-beaten day. He had hoped there would be a chance to collect the owed money in time. Fagin and the boys; they were toast.

Even Dodger didn't utter a word during this silence. It was almost a condemned silence; as though speaking simply wouldn't be proper, no, not even possible, seeing their leader so broken, so defeated. The man finally uttered something barley intelligible. Young Jack Dawkins, however, heard it clearly.

"Go out today if you will it, my dears... I'm turning in early..." And with his commands spoken, Fagin shuffled, half-heartedly, to his sleeping quarters, where all of the boys knew he would stare blindly at the ceiling until the night.

No one moved.

Later in the day, the boys skulked about the isolated old shack, some staring through the foggy windows in a daze similar to old Fagin's, others sat dismal, pondering their soon approaching fate... What would Bill do to them...?

A seemingly cheerful Charley Bates made his way up to his best friend, Mr. Jack Dawkins, "better known among his more intimate friends as the Artful Dodger." However, sitting on the lonely wooden bench, beside the table of stone-cold sausages, Dodger gave a long, sarcastic side glance to his jovial mate, who bore the stupidest of grins on his rounded face.

"... And what 'er YOU so gay 'bout?" scoffed the Dodger, clearly in no mood for smiles. "Find a double rainbow, MASTER BATES? 'Cuz there certainly ain't one 'ere."

Little Charley Bates refused to let up his mischievous smile.

With a sigh, the Dodger stood straight in front of Charley's face. "... Ello...? Cha-ley? Uh, if you 'aven't noticed... Fagin's in a bit of a rut... And... no one is happy right 'bout now. So why the silly grin?"

Charley finally spoke words behind his lips, tightly pulled back into the biggest smile Dodger ever did see. "Wanna go at it?"

"... Go at it? 'Aw, not today Cha-ley. I'm not in the mood for a competition..."

"It could help save Fagin!"

Now, THIS peaked Dodger's interest. Not only was he willing to help Fagin because he was the man who took the Dodger in while he wondered the streets alone years ago, but it ALSO meant a happy Fagin, which meant happy boys, which meant lots of gin and poker, and no Bill Sikes to ruin it all.

"... And 'ow so?" Dodger asked little Charley, who only held his grin in reply before proclaiming;

"Who'evea steals enough today to repay Bill the debt Fagin be owe'n to ol' wins."

Dodger smiled for the first time that morning. "Sounds simple 'nuff!" But his smile faded quickly as his glance moved to the rain-covered window, the hopeful gaze his little hazel eyes had been holding, falling. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Cha-ley, 'ave ya taken a damn look outside yet?"

"Why yes, I 'ave. So?"

Dodger glanced up, surprised at Charley's persistence. He shook his head and sighed. "No one ain't gonna be out on the streets, Cha-ley... But we might as well. Better than this lolly-gagging the rest of the bunch are doin' 'round 'ere."

And with those words, Charley Bates and Jack Dawkins, the invincible Artful Dodger, made their separate ways to the London streets. Dodger couldn't help but feel that it was all in vain. However, Dodger had no idea that he wouldn't be walking home empty-handed... That for a long, long time, from that day onward, he would have his artful hands full, quite full, indeed.