A/N: Hey, everyone! I just wanted to say a massive thank you to Broken Amethyst and breeza13 for reviewing so soon and encouraging me. Reviews are so lovely! You two get clouds and chocolate. As I once muttered to myself while stretching painfully: "Think about clouds and chocolate, and cloudy chocolate, and chocolate-shaped clouds..." I am not, as I'm sure you can tell, normal. :D
Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Personally I don't like it as much. But don't worry! Things will get more interesting again. I just thought I'd like to give Dodger's point of view on events. Bet you're mad, eh? Bet you wanted to know what happens next. Yup, I'm an infuriating person, alright! ;D
What They All Needed
by xWho-Wouldn't-Waver-With-Jackx
Chapter 2 - The Girl
The Artful Dodger.
That was what they called him, and he lived up to it, day to day.
But today was different.
Today was the first time he saw…
…her.
He had been minding his own business, just waiting for a fresh opportunity on his favourite street, when he noticed her.
His eyes locked with hers. He stiffened, ready to leave, and quickly if necessary.
She was just staring at him with wide, brownish hazel eyes. Her hair was dark, perhaps a shade darker than his own, and fell loose a little below her shoulders.
Something about her made him curious.
More than curious.
Mesmerised.
His stomach was tight, thought moments before he had been the epitome of relaxation and confidence. His usual self in other words.
But that look…
Those eyes made him come over all…
…Jack Dawkins.
The him he had used to be.
Suddenly the woman behind the girl gave her a nudge and she broke eye contact. Dodger reeled for half a second, like someone woken from a hypnosis, blinked and was gone, dodging away.
He was unnerved. His palms felt sweaty. He rubbed them on his waistcoat. What had just happened? He couldn't explain it.
It was no good, though. He couldn't pick pockets when he was nervous. He'd have to walk it off.
Not that he was nervous, of course.
He swallowed, nervously.
He was quieter than usual that evening, but nobody picked up on it.
The next day was even stranger.
Dodger was just picking the pockets of a rich old man. He had taken his wallet and handkerchief in one go, his signature move. Pocketing the wallet, he inspected the quality of the kerchief. Not worth a jot. He knew the maker, a crafty man who had the gift of speechcraft and mercantile, though not the gift of craftsmanship.
So he had tapped the man politely and asked if the kerchief was his, gesturing to where he had "found" it on the ground.
The man had been surprised and involuntarily touched his pocket, causing Dodger's heart to quicken should the man notice his missing wallet. Not that it would have phased him if he had; "You musta been pick pocketed! The kerchief can't be worth anythin' much if they left it there in the dust…" and, if necessary, a point over the man's shoulder, a shout and a hasty exit.
But the man had accepted his handkerchief graciously and shook Dodger by the hand. Dodger touched his hat, more to hide his unhelpfully smug expression; he just couldn't help himself. The irony got the better of him.
Turning, he made his way to an alley and glanced around quickly to check nobody had seen anything.
And there she was.
On the other side of the street, standing beside the railings, basket trailing from the idle fingers of one hand, her eyes wide and her lips sealed.
His hand made an automatic movement towards the wallet and her eyes followed its movement.
She knew.
She had seen.
But she wasn't raising the alarm.
He stared at her, and she licked her lips, her eyes uncertain.
Jack Dawkins backed into the shadows and, turning, began to run.
And then there was the fire.
He was just coming out of an alley on to his favourite street when he heard a shout and there was the girl.
He saw her start to run and without thinking followed her, but lost her for a minute in the maze of backstreets. He had just come to a halt staring in front of him through a veneer of shadows that seemed untouched when, from a parallel street he heard a crack and a crash.
He whipped round and began sprinting back the way he had come.
He reached the back of the building in time to see the girl on all fours wipe her eyes with one wrist and force herself to her feet.
As she did she swayed and he took a step forward. She looked up at him and he saw her eyes were red and streaming and there was blood trickling down her face.
He looked down and with horror saw a large splinter of wood, as big as a man's thumb if not bigger, embedded in her left leg.
"You." she breathed.
Then she swayed dangerously again and he moved forwards and caught her as she passed out.
Well, there we go! It's alot shorter than chapter 1, but then like I said, chapter 1 was a kind of bonus extra long pilot type chapter. They length is subject to change, mind you!
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Love you all!
xx