Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything! Nothing!!!! Alright? NOTHING AT ALL!!!

Author's Note: I know how much everyone hates this and it drives me crazy (well, as crazier as I can get, anyways) but I will not post the third chapter until I get at least 3 reviews. I'm not very ambitious…Just three…..a pitiful three? Pretty please? I really just need feed-back on my writing techniques, etc.

Oh, by the way. If you see a longer section of italicized text (this is italicized) then it's a flashback from either the Dodger or Aster's point of view.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What your name, girl?"

"It's Aster, boy."

Dodger smiled quietly at the girl's spunk and flashy spark of life. His mood a bit lightened, Dodger turned and gave an elegant bow.

"The name's Jack Dawkins. But me nearest and dearest call me Dodger… The Artful Dodger."

Aster's dry, wry voice stung quickly. "I can nae wonder why, Mr. Dawkins."                                                                          Her sarcasm dripped slowly off of her thin, pressed lips. The Dodger had been "kind" enough to show her how he had fit all the things he had taken (that she herself had stolen) from her. His large coat had enough room to fit her into it.

The Dodger grinned and turned back around to continue walking down the alleyway.

"Let me warn you, Aster. Ever since… Ever since a lovely lady named Nancy died, me and my boys have been living alone (A/N: No nasty thoughts, please. I'm not writing anything along those lines.) and only going out to take whatever we need."

Aster raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And the boys'll probably seem a bit uneasy with a girl in their midst. Well…at least the more moral ones. Some of the ones about our age will be quite alright, but the others might be sugges-"

The black-haired girl cut him off. "Do nae worry, Mr. Dawkins. (("It's Dodger")) I will nae do anything to make the poor dears uncomfortable. They'll be quite a'ight."

"Mr. Hawkins" only replied with a small shake of his head and a quiet mutter. "It's not them 'poor dears' I'm worried about."

If Aster heard, she gracefully ignored his comment and held her head high up, looking all the world like a proud lady who has donned rags and decided to (gracefully) crawl and roll through the mud.

The Dodger hid his grin and began to walk back down the thin and hidden street. He breathed deeply and smiled like a man returning to a long-lost love.

"We're almost there. Can't you smell those sausages?"

Aster followed his lead and took a deep breath through her nose. Her brown eyes sparkled happily and her tan face broke into a beaming smile at the spicy-sweet smell of sausages and sauce.

"Smells loverly."

"Lovely."

"Loverly."

"Lovely."

"Whatever."

+++++++

The Dodger knocked on the wooden door in a pattern while Aster looked around.

The safe place was a large building hidden behind more deserted large buildings far and deep in the middle of London. A small plank bridge crossed the stream that went by it and led to the flight of stairs that showed the way to the wooden door of the "home." The place seemed dark and dismal, yet radiated a sort of unhappy love about it. Aster decided immediately that she liked the place.

A young boy's voice broke her thoughts and replied to the Dodger's patterned knock. "Death at the door?"

Dodger replied with an equally strange answer. "Only his little rat thief."

"There's two of you down there. Who's the other?"

"A new pal," replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver forward.
"Where did he come from?"
"Greenland. Is Fagin up stairs?"
"Yes, he's a sortin' the wipes. Up with you!"

"Jack's friend is to be treated with the utmost courtesy!" Dodger's rich voice floated to the large, shadow-covered building, pulling him back from his sad memoirs.

"Oh, alright, then, Dodger! Come on chaps! Dodger's back and he's brought and new boy!"

Dodger smirked to Aster in response to the immediate assumption that his protégée was male.  He entered before Aster and grinned happily, hugging and laughing with the lads who were so happy to see him. Even the elder ones who were his peers seemed to rely on him after Fagin had been arrested and went crazy in jail.

Aster saw him among his comrades and smiled to herself, softly. She walked fully into the building and approached the mass of hugs, not really wanting to disturb the moment.

The boys, hearing the faint sound of boots on wood, turned quickly to size up the latest kid and gasped in shock. One of the youngest boys, of about six, turned and tugged on the sleeve of a slightly older one.

"Why is the new boy wearing skirts, Jeoff?"

"That's not a boy in skirts, Roger, that's a girl!!!"

"Thieves and murderers  is almost always happy, dearie. They know they is goin' to die sooner or later and they show the world they do nae care"

"I'm gonna be thief, mummy! Jest like you is  and daddy was."

"I hope not, love. No one respects gypsies and thieves. You have a brain, you can lead a better life."