Whatever Happened to Dodger?

DISCLAIMER: Believe it or not, I am not Charles Dickens. Gasp! Sorry to disappoint all of you. I assure you that most of these characters and some of the plot belongs to him, wherever he may be buried.

SUMMARY: Did you ever wonder what happened to the Dodger? Charles Dickens gladly tells us what happened to Oliver, Fagin, Charley, Nancy, and Bill, but what happened to that funny boy with the top hat who disappeared from the text around chapter 43?

A/N: So, this chapter took quite a while to get up. I know, and I'm sorry. I'm lazy. Get used to it. Kelly gave me a whole month to work on this chapter (probably because in one day I posted chapter 2 and bought a ticket for her to go see Oliver! with me for my birthday). I wasn't planning on even typing this chapter up until the day before my month was up, but yesterday I got a REAL review and it made me want to write. Thanks to my reviewers (even though the first one was only Kelly)! Now, on with the chapter!

Chapter 3: London

After quite a lot of walking and some hitch hiking, Dodger finally made it to London.

As he stood in the street, he remembered how much he had missed London and England and all the people he grew up with. Of course, there was no telling where they were. Considering what they did for a living, they could be alive and free one day and in prison the next. Oh yes, he knew all too well the drawbacks of being a thief.

He didn't have anything better to do so he decided to go see if he could find someone he knew. Surely he would be able to find someone.

Dodger walked through the city, paying about as much attention to the people he passed as they did to him. None. Slowly, the buildings around him became older and dirtier, until he was in the very slum of London. This was the part that he knew best.

He picked his way through the littered streets. He passed many familiar buildings and saw several people, but none of which he knew.

Finally, he came upon the building that he knew better than any of the others: Fagin's den.

Hoping against hope that someone would still be there, preferably Fagin and Charley, he climbed the steps one at a time. As soon as he had reached the top platform, he knew that there was no one there and that no one would be coming back.

There was nothing there to tell him that the building was empty. There were no signs that suggested that the building was unoccupied, besides the obvious dirt and grime. There was nothing, but Dodger had a gut feeling that he was all alone. Again.

He opened the door anyway and went inside. He climbed even more steps and his assumptions were confirmed. If Fagin and the boys were still living here somebody would surely have come to greet him by now. It had often been his job to answer the door but only because he was the only one whose ears could hear the distant knocking on the door. Charley had answered the door when Dodger didn't feel like it or wasn't home. That is, Charley would answer the door when he was sober enough to climb the stairs without falling down.

Dodger couldn't help but laugh at his childhood memories.

H slowly walked around the room, remembering more and more as he went.

He remembered trying to pick Fagin's pocket with Charley every day. He remembered playing whist with whoever was drunk enough to cheat money out of (usually Charley). He remembered sketching those ground plans of Newgate on the table with chalk that was barely visible anymore. He remembered Oliver Twist, and making that gullible boy clean his shoes.

Oliver Twist- could he possibly have anything to do with why everyone had disappeared? It was possible. The boy had caused much trouble in the short amount of time Dodger had been associated with him. The last Dodger had heard of the boy, Oliver had been shot and left in a ditch to die before being rescued by a family who kindly took him in and nursed him back to health. Dodger knew little more than that. Nobody had tried to contact him after he had been transported. Shows how much they cared about him...

Dodger continued through the house until he reached the bedroom. There were still many makeshift beds around the room, and there was definite evidence that many people had tried to escape quickly. Clothes had been thrown around the room and furniture had been knocked over.

Dodger found his hammock and examined his area of the room. It was almost exactly as he had left it that morning before he left for work. The morning he was arrested. He had not expected then that he would be forced to sleep in a cell that night. He hadn't known that he would not be back for a very long time. If he had known that, he would have made an effort to put his personal belongings away properly rather than throwing them in and around the crate under his hammock.

It looked as though Fagin hadn't even given Dodger's bed to someone else. But then again, he didn't know if Fagin had been around long enough to find someone to replace Dodger. No, nobody had used Dodger's bed since he had. It looked like someone had gone through his belongings, but that was to be expected when living among thieves.

Nothing appeared to be missing; although, there hadn't been much there to begin with. He didn't bother to see what was there and what wasn't. It was not important. He still had the clothes he had always worn, even though they no longer fit him. He had the rather large coat (which would probably still fit if he tried it on), and he had his old shoes. The only thing he did not have was his hat. He could not remember what he had done with his hat. He knew he had had it the day he was arrested for he never left home without it. He knew he had had it the day of his trial for he remembered the officer telling him to take it off in the courtroom only to start an argument with a twelve year old boy over a hat. Yet, he did not remember having it the day he left for America. This only slightly bothered him. He had been rather fond of that hat, but he pushed it out of his mind and went back to looking through his old belongings.

He slid the crate to one side and lifted the floorboards. This hiding place hadn't been discovered in his absence, much to his surprise. He reached into the hole and lifted out a small stack of bills. It was the money he had saved and hidden away when he was younger. Fagin had allowed them to keep a small portion of the money they earned- or more accurately, the money they stole.

Dodger had spent most of his money on food and gin, but there was still a good bit left. He was glad he hadn't spent all the money because he needed it. The money he had received for working on the ship would not be enough.

He counted the money and stood up to go, but as he walked towards the door the hammock next to his caught his eye. There was nothing special about this bed. It was no different than any of the others.

It had been Charley's bed. Dodger remembered all the times the two of them had been reprimanded by Fagin for staying up too late and talking too loud while everyone else had been trying to sleep.

Charley had been Dodger's friend. One of the few friends he had ever had.

Dodger paused only for a moment to wonder what had happened to the boy, but he did not dwell on it because for all he knew Charley could be in prison for picking pockets.

He took one last look around the room and left without looking back once. He hoped to find someone he knew. Anyone would be fine. All he wanted was some answers to his questions. He wanted to know what had happened to everyone and why no one had contacted him in six years.

There was only one place he could think of looking at a time like this: The Three Cripples.

When he arrived at the old pub, he found it, too, had been deserted. It, unlike Fagin's place, showed signs of a scuffle from long ago. Furniture was askew, bottles and mugs were broken on the floor, and a thin layer of dust covered everything.

Dodger simply shrugged it off. So he had to start his life all over again. That would not be a problem. All he needed was a crowded street and several wealthy people and he could easily double and triple the money in his pocket in one afternoon.

And that is exactly what he planned to do

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A/N: Yay! Chapter 3! I've already started on chapter 4. Uh oh. I'm working ahead. This is not like me. I'd like to thank my reviewers (I can finally say that!). Oh, I'm having fun typing so I think I'll do personal thank-you's.

Syn67501: Thank you so much for your review! Chapter 3 would still not be up if it wasn't for you. Your review made me want to write. I'm glad you like the story. Dodger is one of my favorite literary characters ever. He's so funny! Thanks again for your review. Hope you like this chapter!

Guess Who: Thank you for your review. It was...different. I am sorry I confused you by making Dodger nice in chapter 1. I will try my hardest to make him mean. Would that make you happy? I assure you, he will survive for a little while in London without the hat. I will get to that part in a couple chapters or so. It is, believe it or not, an important part of the story. I agree though, Dodger is just not the same without the hat. You're going to have to bother me more often if you want these chapters out faster. I know you don't remember but you definitely gave me a month for this chapter. You gave me from September 24 to October 24. Don't ask me how I remember that but I do. Oh well. I got it out before the month was over. Happy? Kelly loves Joey! What?! How'd that get there? Who typed that? Don't hurt me!!

So, chapter 4 should be up fairly soon considering I already started on it. It will probably be posted by next week. I'm not sure how much time I will have to work on it yet.

Read and review!! Thanks!