Disclaimer: Gosh! If you're here you already know I own NOTHING!!!

Author's Note: I've heard some express the difficulty in the italic flashbacks. Quite simply, the ones at the end of every chapter are Aster's and the ones in between are Dodger's. All of Dodger's flashbacks are straight from the book and usually have something like "Jack Dawkins replied, pushing the boy forward." *salute* Oh, and this story is going to be a bit déjà vu-ish (you'll see my little laugh at this in a few minutes) for a bit. I just need a way to get the bad chap(as in bad character) in there.

Oh, and Jack Dawkins is the Dodger…If you didn't know that…Heh.

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The spicy-sweet smell Aster had been admiring last night now drifted through her distracted dreams and memories, forcing her mind towards waking up. She yawned and stretched, her movements almost bored and cat-like. Blue-black hair hung around her shoulders, disheveled and giving her the appearance of, well, someone who has been sleeping. The smell seemed to get stronger and made her realize that someone had brought her sausages.

"Ah, 'ello. What's your name again, dear?"

The small boy grinned slightly and pushed back his brown hair. "M'name's Roger, Miss. These sausages are for you to eat, Dogger said."

Aster's bright eyes laughed quietly, clashing with her solemn face. She took the plate, thankfully, and began to eat the juicy pieces of meat.

Once she was finished, Roger took back the plate and skipped off to somewhere around the corner, leaving Aster to get cleaned up and straightened out. As soon as she was sure he was gone, the gypsy-girl pulled her layered skirts over her head to lie on her petticoats and join at the waist with her billowing blouse.  Her deft, delicate hands quickly took back the clouds of hair and pulled them into a braid. The hands then dipped themselves into the water basin near Aster's pile of blankets and came up to wash her face.

Finally, her face clean and her body dressed, Aster walked out of her curtained area towards the large table in the center of the room where everyone was chatting. Dodger approached from the head of the table to talk with her.

"We are going out, today… I think it would be the perfect time to test you. While Liam takes the boys out to the park and then the streets, I'm going to escort you to a little shop that I haven't been to in quite awhile. Alright, then?"

Aster nodded in response.

"Okay. Boys, time to go! Follow Liam and stick to your jobs! Aster, follow me."

Top hat in hand, Dodger led a different way out of the abandoned building, going towards the opposite side of London. It was about noon when the odd two arrived in the market and store section of town. Dodger quickly pushed his hat on his head and beckoned Aster to a familiar old bookstore.

They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the open square in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some strange perversion of terms, "The Green:" when the Dodger made a sudden stop; and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions back again, with the greatest caution and circumspection.

"What's the matter?" demanded Oliver.

"Hush!" replied the Dodger. "Do you see that old cove at the book-stall?"

"The old gentleman over the way?" said Oliver. "Yes, I see him."

"He'll do," said the Dodger.

"Do you see that man about our age, Aster?"

"Yes. Do you wish me to take from him?"

Dodger looked up in surprise. His last protégé had not been so eager to become a thief.

"Yes, I wish you to steal his watch."

"Got it, Dodger."

Aster quickly weaved herself in between the crowds towards the book-stall. She picked up a classic and walked over to the young man.

"Hello, sir? Could you give me your opinion of this book? I have heard it to be a great piece of literature."

Dodger blinked in disbelief as the country brogue left Aster and her voice held the delicateness of a lady. As the man gave his view on the book, she swiftly began reaching towards his pocket, her movements hidden by her scarves…Unfortunately, the only possible witness was currently witnessing. The store owner quickly ran towards the two.

"Sir! She's a thief, sir!"

Dodger rolled his eyes, but had the grace to look worried as he quickly ran up and pulled Aster away from the man, dropping the watch and running towards an alley and followed by a variety of people who had taken up the cry.

"This is not good…Your first day and you get witnessed!"

"It's not my fault! I'm more used to crowded settings."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Here, hide behind this barrel."

Dodger pushed the girl behind a barrel and ran into the crowd. "She went this way; follow me!"

After a few minutes, Aster felt safe enough to get out from behind the barrel…Unfortunately, she chose to do so just as the book seller was coming back by.

"Aha! There you are. I've got you now! Come on. The fine gentleman is waiting near the small courthouse for someone to find you."

And so, the man dragged a struggling Aster all the way to the young man, and her hearing.

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Dodger spit out a long line of curses as he traveled back to the building. After almost getting away, that idiot girl had taken it in her head to leave the barrel and get caught before he came back… He stormed into the thieves' headquarters and sighed at all the expectant faces looking up at him.

"She got caught. She might be able to act but she has no wits, I swear!"

Liam shook his head. "She's too good for that, Dodger. Perhaps she's just used to crowded settings."

Jack Dawkins frowned down at Liam, unimpressed by this statement. "We have to get her back, Liam. We'll go to the hearing and see what happens… I don't think she'll peach, but I'm not sure."

The small boy called Roger swung his legs from his high place on the table. "This is like that deggy blu thing Fagan used to talk about."

Liam grinned slightly and turned to Dodger. "It'll be okay if it is a sort of déjà vu circumstance."

Rough hands wrung themselves tightly. "No, Liam… I'm afraid it won't be okay... I recognize that man she was stealing from… And he isn't the chap she needs to get to know."

Mother, tell me the story again.

Again, Star? You've heard it ever since it really happened. Aren't you a bit old for stories?

Please, Mother? It's so happy in the end…I need some hope before I leave to London. And you said it really happened. Aren't I 'posed to know history?

Yes, dear, you are. Well, alright. It can't hurt. A few years ago, there was a small boy named Oliver whose mother had died when he was born…