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: Sometimes I think the only reason I'm writing this story is so that I can respond to my reviews. It's rather sad when your review response section is longer than the actual chapter. Sorry about that. I hope this makes up for the last chapter.
Chapter 8: A Familiar Face
"Don't draw attention to yourself," Dodger commanded.
Timothy nodded.
"All we need is some food for today and maybe tomorrow," Dodger instructed. "Don't take more than you have to. We're already risking it by being around people."
Timothy nodded again.
"Right, so do you remember the plan?" Dodger asked.
Timothy nodded.
"Good. You get the food and I'll get the money," Dodger said. "Maybe we can actually buy some of our meals."
Timothy nodded once again.
"Let's move out," Dodger ordered.
Timothy saluted and hurried off down the street.
Dodger started off in the opposite direction. Being inconspicuous had never been a problem for him, but now he had to be extra careful. He had explained the current situation to Timmy who had agreed to be as careful as possible.
Dodger had risked his life to get back to England and neither he nor some little kid was going to mess up his chances of staying there.
He managed to secure a fair sum of money.
Satisfied with his day's work, he headed home. He had also managed to remain unseen. He hoped Timmy was able to do the same.
Timothy arrived back only a short while after Dodger. He carried with him a small sack of food. They had enough food to last them about two days and enough money to last them another four or five. That meant they would not have to leave the safety of their home for a week or so except to buy food, but that was legal.
But, after only three days, Timmy was starting to grow restless. Dodger sent him out to buy sausages and bread, but it was not enough excitement for him. He wanted to leave the house and do what he wanted. Dodger was on his last nerve with the child. He did not think he could handle him for very much longer.
"Can we please go somewhere?" he begged one morning.
"No," was Dodger's response.
"Please?"
"No."
"I won't break anything."
"No."
"I won't get caught."
"No."
"But Dodger!"
"No!"
"Fine," Timmy sulked. "But I'm bored."
Dodger did want to get out of the house. He was feeling almost as restless as Timothy was. He was not used to having to stay put for so long, but it was necessary.
It would only be a few more days before they were out of money and supplies and would have to leave again, but it did not make a difference. Timmy had accidentally broken almost everything in sight just because of his carelessness. Dodger had had enough.
"Dodger?" Timmy said that evening.
"No," Dodger responded automatically.
"Why not?" Timothy pouted. "You didn't even listen to what I was going to say!"
"Fine," Dodger sighed. "What were you going to say?"
"I was going to ask if we could go somewhere."
"No."
"Not even just to the Three Cripples?"
At this, Dodger's snapped to attention.
"What did you say?" he asked.
Timothy sighed.
"I asked if we could go to the Cripples," he repeated.
"How do you know about that place?" Dodger questioned. "It's gone."
"No it's not," the child replied. "I've been there plenty times. Mum said they rebuilt it."
"Do you know where it is?" Dodger was curious now.
"Yes."
"Could you get there from here?"
"Yes."
Dodger thought for a moment.
They would definitely be safer if they stayed where they were, but he really wanted to see if the boy was telling the truth.
Against his better judgment, Dodger agreed to go.
-
The two boys crept quietly through the dark alleys. They could not risk getting caught.
Timothy led the way with the Dodger close behind him paying attention to their surroundings so as not to get lost on their way home.
"I think we're almost there," Timothy breathed. "Yes, there it is!"
Dodger looked ahead of them to see a dim light coming from the upper parts of an old building. It certainly did not look like a bar, but then again, the people there were in hiding.
"Are you sure this is it?" Dodger asked.
Timmy nodded.
"I'm sure of it," he replied.
Dodger followed the child into the building and up a flight of stairs. There, they came to a closed door.
"Knock on it," Timmy instructed.
Dodger knocked firmly three times. A large man answered it. He glanced at them for a moment and then stepped to the side so they could enter.
"Timmy!" a man behind the counter cried. "Where have you been lately? Where's your mother?"
"My mother is in prison at the moment," Timmy replied, sitting down in a chair. "I've been staying with Dodger."
"Dodger?" the man repeated, turning his attention to the person who was the current topic for discussion. "Wasn't you one of Fagin's boys?"
"Yeah," Dodger said, seating himself at the table Timmy had chosen. "Do I know you?"
"No," the man said with a shake of his head. "I don't believe so, but I've heard Tom and Betsy and a few others talk about you before. Apparently, you were a pickpocketing prodigy. They said you were one of the best."
Dodger listened in silence.
"I believe they said you was arrested though," the man continued.
"I was," Dodger said simply. "But I managed to get away."
The man nodded.
"I believe that," he said. "According to the stories I've heard, that sounds just like something you would do."
"I'm glad nobody's forgotten about me over the years," Dodger laughed. "It seems they've all taken the liberty of making sure nobody would."
"Aye," the man said. "You are often the topic of conversation around here, you and that Oliver Twist fellow."
"You've heard stories about him too?" Dodger frowned. "Could you tell me what you know? I've been away for a while and missed all the excitement. Bet told me bits and pieces of it, but she was a little short on time."
The man obliged and spent several hours explaining what had happened that fateful night and the events that led up to it. Dodger listened intently while Timmy amused himself by visiting with the other occupants of the bar and playing with a small puppy.
After the story was over and Dodger was satisfied with the answers he had received, he ordered food and drinks for both himself and Timothy. Dodger ate in silence while Timmy talked to the bartender, whose name was Hopkins, as Dodger had come to find out.
"Dodger!" Timothy cried. "You know what we need? We need a dog."
The child erupted in laughter as the puppy under the table licked his ankle.
"No," Dodger replied.
"Please?" Timothy begged. "I like dogs. I'll take care of it."
"You can take that one if you like," Hopkins offered.
"No dogs," Dodger said firmly.
Timothy pouted, but gave up trying.
Dodger thanked Hopkins for his hospitality and led Timmy towards the door. As they were leaving, a voice called out to them.
"Young man," an elderly man called.
Dodger stopped Timothy from leaving and walked over to the man's table in the corner.
"I overheard your conversation," the man said. "I understand you're interested about what happened to Fagin and the others. I am curious as to why you wish to know so much." He paused. "You look oddly familiar. Do I know you?"
"I worked for Fagin for many years," Dodger explained. "However, I was fortunate enough to have been gone when Fagin was took. I simply wanted to know what had happened. I do believe you know me, for I recognized you immediately. I only hope you haven't forgotten me already."
"Jack Dawkins?" Toby Crackit said. "Is it really you? You have returned. You always were the artful one."
Dodger laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small boy yawn and slowly chase after a puppy, as if he was too tired to continue playing.
"I'll have to talk to you another time," he said. "Timmy and I need to be heading home."
After saying goodbye, Dodger and Timothy began the journey home.
"Can we go back tomorrow?" Timothy asked.
"I don't know if it's safe," Dodger replied.
"But we didn't get caught today," Timothy said.
"But tomorrow is another day."
And indeed, it was.
A/N: Finally! I am so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. I had writer's block and could not think of anything to write about. I don't like this chapter very much, but hopefully nobody else hates it too much. At least I have an idea for chapter 9, so it should be up soon.
In the meantime, I've started a second story. I know most of you have already read it, but for those of you who haven't, please go look. I'm not sure how much longer this story will last, but I have a feeling the other one will be fairly long.
Thanks once again to my wonderful reviewers!
Foot: Here's chapter 8. Thanks for looking it over for me and convincing me to post it. I wasn't going to because I didn't like it, but you said you liked it so I figured I'd give it a whirl.
ArtfulDodgerLover: Thanks! Don't worry, we're all obsessed. That's why we're here.
Mistress of Magic3: Oh yay! Thanks! No, this is definitely not over yet. I will announce when it is. I think there are still a few more chapters left. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
MyStIc BlAcK PhOeNix: Thanks!Yes, you should definitely read the book. It's worth it. Have fun with your play. I wish I could act. Then I would try out for Oliver! someday. Enjoy!
dstrbd child: Yes, my brothers are odd. They make me laugh though. I hope you like this chapter!
Toff: Aww, I wish we had been forced to watch movies like that in junior high. Yes, Dodger is definitely a toff.
Fhire: Wow, when I saw all of your reviews I thought my inbox had exploded. Thanks! You really made my day. I posted this chapter as soon as possible after reading your reviews for fear of being hunted, caught, killed, gutted, skinned, and hanged. That was definitely the most threatening review I've ever received. The play is very good. You should go see it if you ever get the chance. Congratulations on your part. That sounds like a lot of fun. Picking pockets is fun. I want to be like the guys on TV who can steal watches and stuff. It's never too late to say happy birthday. Happy birthday to you too! I'm really glad you like this story. Here's chapter 8. I hope you like it!
Read and review!
