Shadow on the Wall
A/N: It's been far too long since I've updated; being swamped with projects is no fun! It's my best friend's birthday party tomorrow night, so I'll try to update A Dickensian Anthology and get a new chapter (or two) of Villains To The End up on Saturday; I'll have more time so they'll therefore be longer and better written; goodness knows we all like that. XD
In the meantime, I was having a project break (heh) and came up with my first ever songfic! =o I hope you like it! The song is 'Shadow on the Wall' by Mike Oldfield. It always reminds me of our favourite master criminal. Song lyrics are in italics, parts in these brackets {} are flashbacks. =)
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Like a shadow on the wall
Fagin sat on the worn wooden bench, arms tight around his knees, as if he was trying to hold himself together. How could this have happened; when everything was going so well? They'd had the boy back again, he hadn't peached…but Nancy had. Bill had murdered her. Then he himself had died. Fagin knew his time was drawing near.
Treat me like a prisoner
Treat me like a fool
But, he thought, he didn't deserve to die! He was just an old man, an old, old man…
He was so lost in his confused thoughts that he wasn't conscious he was muttering the phrase aloud. "I'm an old man, an old, old man…"
The guard, seated just outside the cell, told him, in no eloquent terms, to shut his trap. But he couldn't. Not now. He had to plead for his life, another chance; he deserved that, didn't he, after all he'd done? Couldn't they see how he'd helped the lads; taken them in, given them food and shelter? He was a good man; an honest gentleman…wasn't he?
Treat me like a loser
Use me as a tool
Hours slipped past, soon fading into a day, then another. The time of his execution was drawing ever nearer, Fagin knew; a fact of which he wasn't particularly fond. He kept seeing images of hooded faces and ropes in crude loops; but maybe they were figments of his imagination? He didn't know. His guard seemed to relish the fact he was losing it; he kept laughing derisively and making jokes at his expense, though the old man barely noticed in his agitated state.
Waste me till I'm hungry
Lose me in the cold
Fagin wasn't sure when he'd last eaten, and if he was hungry he was completely oblivious to it. Food, mouldy or otherwise, could be of no use to him now. If he starved to death at least he wouldn't hang…he shivered at this macabre thought, huddling further inside his coat. A chilling wind oozed through the small barred window; the candle on the guard's desk sputtered and died.
Treat me like a criminal
Just a shadow on the wall
Fagin's head hit the bench as he tried to compose himself to sleep. But how could he? How could he waste these last few hours of his life; if even a few hours were left to him? He didn't know how long he'd been there or how much time had passed, so lost was he in his maddening reflections and fits of fury and fear. How had he let this happen? He'd never been caught! Never! Yet here he was, in the clink; the place of despair and death. He could taste it in the air; the misery and deprivation of the cells…
Treat me like I'm evil
Freeze me till I'm cold
He found his mind wandering aimlessly back in time; when things were just as they should be…the lads out at work, himself with his comfortable old armchair, a bottle of gin ever present in his hand, a devilish grin affixed to his wrinkled features. Where had those days gone? He recalled the day he'd been captured as if it were yesterday; maybe it was, he could no longer tell…
Beat me till I'm feeble
Grind me till I'm old
{"She peached! She told 'im Fagin 'ad Oliver!"
That was the moment Fagin realized that the game was up. They were all for the drop. They would all hang…he could practically feel the noose about his neck…
"Bill, hear me speak a word!"
Sykes wouldn't listen to reason. He fled the house, resolute, determined to get revenge on the one whom he believed had been the downfall of them all. Fagin's warnings were lost on him.
A frenzy of activity such as never before seen soon took place in the den as the boys scrambled to find their belongings, pack them together and run as they had never ran before. Run for their lives.
"Flit!" Fagin screeched. "Flit, boys, flit! The traps'll be at the door before you can say Spitalfields! Flit! Flit! Flit!"
Flit they had; to Toby's humble abode. But even Jacob's Island wasn't safe; Bill met his downfall and the traps soon found their way into the Crackit residence. Toby tried to put up a fight, as did they all, but to no avail. Fagin recalled every scream, every curse, every desperate plea for mercy…}
Wire me till I'm tired
Push me till I fall
Fagin sat bolt upright once more, the memory thrilling him to the core with a vague sense of impending disaster. The rope, the noose, the drop… He could scare distinguish old memories from the present; he rocked back and forth in his hunched position, trying in vain to regain control of his petrified mind. Garbled phrases and half formed words fled his trembling lips, and he felt tears of anger and terror spilling silently down his face.
Treat me like a criminal
Just a shadow on the wall
Fagin was gone; he'd grown worse as time drew on but it was now too late to save him. The abject terror, the horror, the fury…it had all been too much for even his cunning mind to bear. He was completely lost to the world now, nothing but a shell of the man he once had been.
He would hang, and become even less.
Just a shadow on the wall.