Hello! Can you believe that this is CHAPTER TWENTY? Boy, time flies! Once again, thanks to all my sponsors (there are so many of you – which is a very good thing – that it would take far too long to list)! You guys are GREAT!!! On with the story!

Chapter 21: Dr. Phil… er, no… "Dr. Nancy"

Once the Dodger and Nancy were outside, she grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of her apartment.

"Where are we goin'?" asked the Dodger. He was exasperated.

"I'm taking you to Bill's. That way, we can have a good and proper talk!"

"Nance!" the Dodger moaned. "What's there ta' talk 'bout. I was just in a bar, getting a drink-"

"We already went over this! You were gonna have far more than a 'drink'! To think that I've heard so much praise from Fagin and Guinevere about how you're no slacker and-"

"Guinevere said something 'bout me?" the Dodger asked carefully. "What 'id she say?"

"Well, as I recall it, she said you were a hard-worker, very focused, and that you are good at what you do," Nancy smiled.

"Darn!" That's it? That's all she said?!

"Huh?" asked Nancy.

"Nothin'."

"You said 'Darn!', why?"

"No reason." He pretended to be interested in the grimy buildings they passed.

Nancy just shook her head. She'd get it out of him in good time.

Once they arrived at Bill's, they went into the kitchen. Lighting the fire and a candle, she started some coffee. After she finished, she turned and focused on the Dodger, who was seated at the table.

"So, why were you taking a break from work," she sat down across from him.

"I just wanted a dr-" wait, he didn't want to start that argument all over again, "I was havin' a good day, so I figured I'd take a break – a small reward for all my 'ard work."

"Can I see what you got so far?" Nancy acted curiously.

"Ummmm…" Jack knew he actually hadn't gotten anything. What should he show her? "Um…" He fingered his empty pockets.

"Look at me!" Nancy interrupted him. He looked up, slightly confused. "Your eyes are red and puffy… 'ave you been crying?!" she asked as carefully as possible, but still not well enough to hide her surprise.

The Dodger turned red. Why did I look at 'er?! "No!" he answered nervously. "Prob'ly just the whiskey…" He started to examine a button on his greatcoat.

Nancy got up to retrieve the coffee, hoping that by avoiding looking at him it might encourage him to tell her whatever was bothering him. She poured the coffee into two cups; one for him and one for her. He still didn't speak up. Giving up, she said, "You don't have to tell me why if you don't want to… I just might be able to help you…" she waited for him to respond, but he just stared at his coat-button. Bringing over the coffee, she decided it was time to use her best (and worst) weapon, "I'll tell all the others that you were crying if you don't tell me why."

Dodger looked up, mouth dropped open in shock. "You wouldn't!" he said, daring her with his eyes.

"I could…" Nancy answered nonchalantly as she handed him his coffee.

Dodger bowed his head a little and stared into his coffee. He was silent for a moment. "Nance… I, well, it's diff'cult to explain… it's not really important… not even int'restin'…"

"It's obviously important to you…," Nancy said. She reached a hand across the table and clasped one of the Dodger's hands that were lying on the table. He jumped slightly at the contact. His hand was cold.

Finally the Dodger spoke, "There's this girl," he paused waiting for her to laugh and ask 'Is that all?', but she didn't. He decided to continue, "'an she don't know I'm 'live… she knows somebody else is 'live, though…"

"And because she's interested in the other person, she doesn't really notice you?" Nancy asked quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so." He took a sip of his coffee.

"Dodger?" when she spoke his name, he looked up at her, "I don't think that you need to worry about it. She obviously doesn't have good taste if she don't even notice you." Nancy smiled.

All the Dodger could do to keep from laughing at the fact that she was insulting her own daughter was to nod and drink more of his coffee.

"Nance," he finally said, "there's 'least one problem with your logic… this girl does have good taste."

"How do you know that?" Nancy asked almost laughing.

"'Cause… you know 'er… she's… 'er name's… Guinevere."

----

When the Dodger arrived back at Fagin's that evening, he was very quiet. Thoughts were swimming through his head. He was thinking about all the advice Nancy had given him: "Give her some flowers." "Take her somewhere nice." "Just tell her how you feel." The last suggestion seemed to echo in his head. Maybe he didn't have to tell her… maybe he could show her. The only problem with this logic was that he couldn't even think of one good way to do it. Every idea he got was turned away as 'not good enough', 'too obvious', or 'not obvious enough'.

"… my dear?" It was Fagin speaking.

"What?" the Dodger asked.

"I asked how your day was. Get anything good?"

"A bit," he answered and pulled the objects out of his pockets.

"Nice work, my dear. Very nice!" Fagin handed him some money and shooed him upstairs to wait till dinner was ready.

Hmmm… kind of boring, but nonetheless, an important chapter. Please review!