Hey, there, here's the next chapter for you. I just want to thank everyone for getting me up to the 100 review mark. Thanks for making me grin like a Cheshire Cat and squeal like a little schoolgirl.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Perfect Crime?

Chapter 21

No sooner had Fagin and Charley left did Dodger curl up into a ball. He pulled the blanket back up over his head and closed his eyes. Catherine noticed this sudden change in demeanour but she decided not to say anything for the time being.

Fagin had sent Charley back to the warehouse and then made his way to the police station, and wasted no time in telling them that a hospital nurse had told the reporters which hospital Jack was staying at. He knew that he had to let them know as soon as possible; the reporters were probably printing the information at that very moment. To his relief, he was assured that the officers would hold a press conference that very night to try and convince the reporters to not publish the information. Fagin left the station not long after and returned to the warehouse. Charley had wasted no time in telling everybody that the newspapers knew where Dodger was.

"But Dodger don't know about this," Fagin told them. "I've spoken to the police and they're gonna do what they can, though."

"What if they still put it in the papers?" asked Ace and Fagin looked thoughtful.

"I dunno," he replied truthfully. "I suppose we could move Dodger to another hospital, and if we can't, well, we'll 'ave to tell the 'ospital and show 'em the picture."

"I don't think 'e'd try anythin' in an 'ospital," said Charley wisely. "It's full of people and I reckon some of those doctors are up at all hours."

"Well, better safe than sorry," and the boys' murmured in agreement before Fagin sent them off to bed.

Meanwhile, the press were gathered outside the police station, where the officers were stood.

"We personally feel that it would be in everyone's best interest if the name of the hospital was not published," explained Lon.

"We have a right to publish what we feel the public needs to know," rebutted a reporter, "we are trying to help."

"His family do not wish for the name to be published, as they fear the kidnapper returning."

"We have a duty to report what information we have in order to inform the public!" Lon sighed; the reporters weren't backing down; technically they were right; it was their job to print as much information as possible, and they had no power over the media, so the officers' only chance was to try and convince them to change the reports. He, along with the other police members', continued trying to explain that printing the name of the hospital would neither benefit anyone nor help the investigation, but the reporters maintained that they needed to. It was rather like a tennis match, back and forth, back and forth, except nobody was winning. After half an hour, when the police had said all they could, they ended the press conference, and they could only hope that the name of the hospital would not be published.

The next morning, Dodger was still curled up in the same position he'd been in since Fagin and Charley left. He ignored Catherine as she entered the room with his breakfast and refused to eat. He was too depressed to eat; he was still convinced that Fagin didn't want him and seeing the excitement on Charley's face only made the fact more upsetting. Charley might want him back, but Fagin didn't, and Dodger couldn't bear to go back home when he knew that the very person who had raised him for almost half his life didn't want him there anymore.

Dodger tried to snap himself out of his current state; he needed to find somewhere to live. Nancy's was out of the question; she and Bill were too close to Fagin. He couldn't afford a boarding house; well, he probably could, given his pick-pocketing skills, but there was no guarantee that he would be safe there; what if "Thomas" was residing at a boarding house? He was not going to the workhouse; no matter how bad his situation got, he would never go there. Living on the streets was not an option, either; he had done that for a short time before Nancy had found him and brought him to Fagin's, and it was something he never wanted to experience again.

Dodger appeared to have exhausted all his options; there was nowhere for him to live. He felt so helpless, he didn't know what to do.

"Jack? You haven't touched your breakfast," Catherine observed. "Are you okay?" she noticed his pained expression. "Are you hurt?" Dodger then started to cry, and he curled up into an even tighter ball.

"I don't know what to do!" he sobbed, as Catherine looked slightly confused. "I've got nowhere to go! I'm tryna think, but I can't, and I just don't know what to do!"

"What do you mean, Jack?" Catherine took a seat beside him. "What do you mean when you say you've got nowhere to go?"

"Fagin don't want me no more; 'e says 'e does, but 'e's lyin', 'e must be!"

"Your grandfather? Why wouldn't he want you?"

"I don't know! But that's what 'e said; that's what 'e kept tellin' me!"

"'He'? Do you mean your kidnapper?" she asked and Dodger nodded. "Jack, you don't really believe him, do you? He was lying."

"'Ow do ya know?" Dodger asked thickly, his tear-streaked face peeking out from his blanket.

"Well, has your grandfather ever done anything to make you believe that he doesn't want you?"

"'E was late the other day."

"Yes, that's true, but that only happened the one time; 'e's never done it since."

"'Cause 'e knows that I know 'e don't want me."

"There is no reason for him not to want you," Catherine tried to reassure him, and Dodger quietened because he couldn't think of an answer to that. Catherine smiled at him as he wiped his eyes, still not fully convinced. Then, a thought occurred to him; he could – no, he couldn't – or could he? He wondered if he dare ask her. Would she mind? He didn't think so; she was a nice person, and he was sure she wouldn't mind if he asked to live with her. She would understand that he had nowhere to go and take him in, right? But then Dodger realised that not only was Catherine a nurse, but he had never seen her leave the hospital. If he did end up living with her, he would most likely end up being alone for the better part of the day, and that was not what he wanted. Dodger resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to go and live with Fagin, and hopefully, the elderly man would start to enjoy his company.

Fagin had already sent the boys' out and was waiting for Bet so that they could walk to the hospital together. When she had at last arrived, they began to make their way down the street, and they happened to pass a newspaper stand; Fagin's heart sank when he saw that the hospital name had been printed after all. Sure enough, when he and Bet arrived at the hospital, there was a crowd gathered outside with a few reporters dotted here and there.

Ignoring the questions that were fired at them, Fagin and Bet made their way inside the double doors, with Fagin snapping them smartly shut in a reporters' face.

"When do ya think they'll go away?" asked Bet as they made their way up to Dodger's room.

"Who knows?" replied Fagin truthfully. Of course, they both knew that all the reporters wanted was an interview, and they would most likely stick around until they got one.

Fagin knew he should be worried about "Thomas" reading the paper and then coming back for Dodger, but he wasn't. At least not as worried as he had been previously. Charley was right; the hospital was buzzing with activity twenty-four hours a day, not to mention he had brought several sketches of "Thomas" along to give to James, Catherine and the receptionist. Dodger was safer here than he would be back at the warehouse, the old man realised and it made him worried, for what would happen when Dodger was released? Would "Thomas come back for him? Fagin sincerely hoped that the police would catch "Thomas" before he had another chance to strike.

When they arrived at Dodger's room, they found the boy sitting up in bed. His facial bruising and swelling had at last fully subsided; his black eyes were gone and the only evidence that remained of his broken nose was a tiny bruise at the top of the bridge. The only signs of strangulation were a few small bruises on his neck, but other than that, Dodger had no bruising at all. He looked much better, and Fagin said as much as he and Bet sat down at the side of Dodger's bed. Dodger nodded but didn't say anything. He didn't say very much for the duration of their visit, although he did answer whenever they spoke to him, which was an improvement, Fagin thought.

"Just think; a little over three weeks and you'll be able to come home," Bet smiled.

"Yeah," replied Dodger, fiddling with his blanket.

"Aren't you excited?"

"Yeah," he repeated; well, it was half the truth – the sooner he could return home, the sooner everything would go back to normal. But it was going to be extremely difficult returning to a place when he was no longer wanted, but Dodger knew he had nowhere else to go, so he said nothing more on the subject.

Catherine made a mental note to tell Fagin of Dodger's fears of not being wanted, and decided that she would bring it up when visiting hours were over; she could tell him in the hallway and Dodger wouldn't overhear.

Maria had been temporarily suspended for going against James' wishes, and she was due to come back after Dodger left. The young nurse was very upset, as she claimed that she was only trying to help, but she was complacent with the small reward she had received for providing the media with the information, so she felt better now that she would be able to provide for herself and her daughter whilst she was off work.

Of course, Catherine knew about the suspension, and although she felt a little bit sorry for Maria, she hoped that the younger nurse would now be encouraged to follow her supervisor's orders.

When visiting hours were over, Catherine caught up with Fagin as he and Bet were leaving.

"Excuse me, sir, but before you leave, I think I should tell you that Jack got very upset this morning," she began.

"Upset? What about?"

"Well, he kept saying that he had nowhere to go, and that he didn't know what to do, and when I asked him what he meant, he said that you didn't want him anymore."

"Oh, no," Fagin muttered. "I thought 'e'd stopped all that. 'E only thinks that because when I was late," he told the nurse.

"I completely understand," smiled Catherine, "I just thought you should know."

"Okay, well, thanks," said Fagin. "I'll try to make 'im feel better." When had left with Bet, Catherine went to get Dodger's dinner. She and James had decided to start Dodger on proper meals now, to help build his strength up.

Dodger barely managed to finish his bread, cheese and potatoes, but Catherine explained that it was completely normal and that it was only because his body wasn't used to eating properly as he hadn't been fed proper food for a while. When Catherine took his tray away, Dodger curled up under his blankets.

"I'm still so tired," he revealed when she returned. "Why am I still so tired when I've slept a lot?"

"It's too much sleep, Jack," she answered. "Sometimes, when you sleep too much, it can make you even more tired." That didn't make a lot of sense to Dodger, but as she was a nurse, he was sure she knew what she was talking about. "How about tomorrow, you try and stay awake all day, and see how well you sleep that night?" Dodger agreed and pulled the blanket tightly around him.

When the boy had fallen asleep, Catherine studied the sketch of "Thomas" that James had given her; James had one, as did the receptionist, and two more were plastered on the entrance doors. The nurse couldn't help wondering why Dodger's kidnapper was after the boy.

Fagin hadn't yet gone to the police concerning his fears about what would happen to Dodger once he was released from hospital. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want officers standing guard outside his house; if they knew where he lived and what line of business he was in, they'd throw him in jail before he could blink! Selfish? Not really; his boys' would probably end up behind bars as well, and he didn't want that to happen. All he could do was hope that "Thomas" would get caught before Dodger left hospital, if not, he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

He spoke about this with Bet once they arrived back at the warehouse, and she agreed that there was nothing that could be done.

Fagin's next problem to tackle was convincing Dodger that he was wanted. Fagin couldn't think of anything else to do except what he was currently doing and that was making sure he was right on time for visiting hours and spending the entire day with Dodger, Hopefully, the boy would come to realise that his kidnapper had lied to him. It made Fagin slightly upset when Dodger had said that Fagin didn't want him, because he would have never imagined that Dodger would ever believe something like that.

But then he remembered what Nancy had said about Dodger being in a strange place, and that he had had no company throughout his ordeal but his kidnapper. Dodger would have had no choice but to listen to the man and after a while, he would have eventually started to believe it. Fagin felt so angry at "Thomas," for what he had done, words couldn't describe it.

The next morning, after the boys' had all gone out to work, something hit him; he had forgotten to tell that lady, what was her name – Grace – that they had found Dodger. She and her family would have still been looking for him.

Then Fagin found himself wondering if they had actually been looking for Dodger at all, or if they had just said that to be nice. She had seemed sincere, he remembered, and genuinely concerned. So, on his way to the hospital, he took a detour and knocked upon the door where she lived.

"We found 'im," he said as soon as she opened the door.

"Yes, I know. I read about it in the newspapers," she revealed.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell ya sooner; I forgot."

"Oh, that's quite alright, sir. I'm glad you found him," she said sincerely. Fagin thanked her for her help and continued his route to the hospital.

When he arrived, Dodger was sat up again, and Fagin was momentarily taken aback by the boy's healed face, the same as he had been yesterday; he'd gotten rather used to seeing Dodger covered in bruises and it was such a relief to see that they had gone.

"'Ow are ya feelin', my dear?" he asked taking a seat.

"A bit tired," came Dodger's reply. "Where's Nancy?"

"Oh, she 'ad to work today, but I'm sure she'll come tomorrow."

"Okay."

"You say you're tired, my dear?" Fagin asked after a few moments of silence. "Ain't ya been sleepin'?"

"Yes; I'm just still tired." It was now more than obvious to Fagin that Dodger hadn't gotten much, if any, sleep whilst in captivity and now it seemed he was making up for lost time.

"Well, I'm sure that you'll feel better soon," was all he found he could say.

"Yeah," Dodger replied, feeling drowsy already.

"Listen, Jack," said Fagin, shifting his chair closer to the bed. "'Ave ya given any more thought to tellin' the police yet?"

"I don't wanna tell 'em," he said.

"They really need ya to," Fagin tried to convince him.

"But I can't."

"Well, 'ow about ya tell me, and then I tell them?"

"I really don't want to," Dodger looked at him. "I don't want anyone to know."

"Nobody would know, my dear, except for me and the two policemen."

"You'd still know, though."

"That don't really matter, though. I wouldn't tell anyone else, and neither would they."

"It'd be in the papers." He had Fagin on that one, and they both knew it.

"Well, maybe it won't. The police only want ya to tell them; they don't wanna tell anyone else."

"But I don't wanna tell. Please don't make me tell." Fagin saw how upset Dodger was getting, but he continued, speaking in a more gentle tone of voice, however.

"I'm not gonna make ya do anythin' ya don't wanna; I'm just askin' ya to 'ave a think about it. The sooner you tell 'em, the sooner they can catch 'im, and ya do want 'im locked up, don't ya, my dear?"

"Well, yeah, I do, but -"

"Then that's why ya really should tell them. They'll lock 'im up."

"But – I do want 'im locked up; I just don't wanna tell anyone. Please don't make me tell," he repeated. He couldn't bear the idea of everyone knowing what he had gone through; he didn't want them staring at him with pity all over their faces. Not to mentioned the humiliating obedience test he was subjected to and how he had been locked up with the battered body of a dead child. Dodger involuntarily shuddered at the memory, an act which did not go unnoticed by Fagin.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

"N-nothin'," Dodger lied, which Fagin also picked up on. "I just don't like thinkin' about it. I'm a bit tired now; I think I'm gonna go to sleep," he rested his head on the pillows and closed his eyes apparently forgetting about his previous agreement with Catherine. Within moments, he was asleep and Fagin sighed. Dodger was clearly not backing down.

"I wish 'e would understand; 'e needs to tell," he said to Catherine, who was perched in a corner.

"I'm sure he will soon enough," she said kindly, approaching Fagin.

"The sooner, the better," he muttered.

"Well, hopefully, the kidnapper will be captured soon."

"Yeah," Fagin agreed, looking at the sleeping Dodger, as did Catherine.

"Although I am glad he's getting better, I shall miss Jack so. He's such a sweet little thing," said the nurse and Fagin had to bite back both a laugh and a sarcastic remark. Why, saying that Dodger was sweet was like saying that he, Fagin, was a man of upstanding law and order.

"Yeah, 'e can be," he supposed aloud.

Dodger was still asleep when Nancy arrived, and Fagin told her that the boy was standing strong on his decision not to talk.

"Well, there don't seem to be much else you can do," she sighed. "I'd say ya just 'ave to keep askin' every now and then; per'aps one day 'e'll wanna tell ya." Privately, Fagin couldn't see that happening, but he didn't say this to Nancy.

Not long after Nancy left, Dodger awoke. Fagin resumed talking to him and did not mention the police or anything to do with the kidnapping, and Dodger seemed happier for it. Fagin decided that if the police wanted him to tell, they would have to speak to the boy themselves; he had done all he could do.

Before he left, he told Dodger that Charley would more than likely visit tomorrow and Dodger attempted a smile.

After Fagin left, Catherine resumed reading to Dodger before she left to get his dinner, chicken and potatoes. Dodger was slowly beginning to eat with more, she noted.

"What's this?" Dodger speared a piece of chicken on his fork.

"It's chicken. Do you like it?" Dodger put down his fork.

"Chicken as in the animal?" he asked.

"Yes; there's no other kind," Catherine chuckled gently, but Dodger looked down at his plate.

"You mean I've been eatin' an animal?"

"Yes; you've done it a lot."

"This was alive?" He looked at the meat; the idea of eating something that had once had a beating heart felt strange to him.

"Yes, but it's perfectly healthy and okay to eat, Jack."

"But – it was alive," his mind couldn't seem to wrap itself around that fact.

"You've eaten other animals before, Jack."

"I 'ave not," the boy insisted.

"Your grandfather told me how, after he found you, you ate some sausages. That comes from an animal."

"It does? I didn't know."

"No?"

"There ain't no animals called 'sausage'! Otherwise I would've known," he said.

"Okay, that's perfectly fine," said the nurse and Dodger looked back at his plate.

"It tastes nice, though," he admitted sheepishly. "It's just a bit weird."

When he'd finished, Catherine read to him, as she always did, until he fell asleep.

The next morning, she took him back to the playroom, but just as before, Dodger did not play with the other children. He sat in his wheelchair and watched, like he did previously. Now that his bruises had cleared up, the children didn't give him a second glance.

"Would you like to go to the garden, Jack? Catherine asked as they were getting ready to leave the playroom and Dodger shook his head, so she wheeled him back to his room. Dodger chose to remain in the wheelchair rather than get back into bed. He wanted to start walking around more, but he was waiting for Fagin and Charley, who arrived promptly at twelve o'clock.

"Wow, ya look so much better!" blurted out Charley as soon as he entered the room and Dodger's mouth twitched slightly.

"That's good," he said. "What are things like back 'ome?" he asked, wanting to keep the subject off himself.

"Oh, ya know; the usual," said Charley. "What about 'ere?"

"The usual," Dodger used Charley's words and his friend grinned.

"So, 'ow's 'ospital life treatin' ya?" he asked after a few moments. He couldn't wait until Dodger was back home, and neither could Dodger, if only so everything would go back to normal.

"It's all right," he replied.

"Only 'all right'?" Charley repeated, trying to cheer his friend up and Dodger nodded. "Well, two more weeks and ya can go 'ome," he revealed and Dodger nodded again. Charley wasn't too sure of what else to say, so he started talking about everything that had happened at the warehouse since his last visit, even the minor details, as a way to pass the time.

To his happiness, Dodger started talking to him more and more, and Charley hoped that when Dodger returned home, things would go back to the way they used to be. He knew it would take a long time, though, and he knew that Dodger might never be the same again.

~ X ~

Well, it's done! I know this chapter is a little bit shorter than my usual, but let me know what you think.