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Two
After the Dodger's meeting in the alley, he couldn't focus on anything for the rest of the day. His thoughts drifted back to Sara, thinking over all their words at least a hundred times before he finally fell asleep that night. Sara had looked about eighteen, he had noticed, when he himself was only a few months from that age.
The Dodger didn't seem to see anything for the next two weeks, and only brought back pickings that were well below his known average. He had eventually snapped himself into shape, thinking, Why should she fall in love with you? It's no' her place. She'll marry a respectable gent – a beak, or a nobleman.
Two weeks after his meeting with Sara, when he was walking back to his new lodging. He still thought of it as 'new', even though it had been a few years since the night with Bill Sykes. It was the same distance from the tab as their old place, but in the opposite direction. He shuddered at the memory of the night Bill Sikes died, and quickly and gladly returned to reality.
When the Dodger was about to step into the street, he saw a man restraining a struggling woman. It was well after dark, but the Dodger thought of Sara, and felt that he couldn't just leave the woman to whatever fate she would have if he didn't help her.
He doubled back the way he came, going through the dark cobblestoned streets, behind the small houses. He cut between two houses, and came out in the moonlit street just behind the man still restraining the woman, who was now muttering drunkenly to her. As soon as he had done that, he realized that he had no plan. At the age of seventeen, the fully grown man would overpower him.
Suddenly, it came to him. The Dodger pulled a hard silver case from under his coat which he had picked from the pockets of a beak earlier that day. He came up behind the man, and he, in his drunken stupor, didn't notice him. Dodger took the case, and hit the man's temple with it. He instantly crumpled to the ground, and the woman looked up and saw the Dodger.
She stared at him as he slowly made his way towards her, and she whispered, "Thank you. Thank you." before she collapsed into quiet sobs, and into his arms. For a moment the Dodger quickly devised a plan. There was no way he could take this woman back to her home tonight, it was far too late. And if he didn't return soon, the boys would become restless. He was in charge of them tonight, as Fagan was out of the city, on what he had called a "business trip". His only option was to take her to home, and bring her home in the morning.
As she slowly stopped crying, she looked up at him, and her arms fell back to her sides. Her tearstained face was still in shadow.
"It's too late fer you to go 'ome tonight. We'll set ou' in the mornin'.
"I know it's far too late to go home tonight, but I think I'll be fine on my own, thank you." She said sharply, taking a step back.
"Don' worry. The Dodger will take care of you. On my 'onour."
"The Dodger?" she asked curiously, with a hint of scepticism.
"At your service." He said. "Now, we'd best get you out of 'ere. It's late."
"Oh, thank goodness it's you!" The woman said, stepping into the light, her tone clearly emanating her relief.
The Dodger's breath caught in his throat as he suddenly recognized the face that was now no longer hidden in shadow, and also noticed for the first time, her expensive clothing.
It was Sara.
"Wha' are you doin' down 'ere – an' at this time o' night?" He asked incredulously.
Sara shuddered. "I was – I was at a party. That man – he's been after me to marry him. He got drunk, and dragged me out to a carriage, and told the driver to take him to his estate. I guess the driver thought we belonged down here." She looked down, and fell silent.
The Dodger felt a slow, strong burning of anger towards the man. But was suddenly sorry he asked, after seeing Sara's expression. "Come on," he said, leading her along, down the road and turning left at the bridge. "It's alright. We can' get all the way to the upper city tonight."
They walked along through the darkness, the Dodger laying a comforting arm around Sara's shoulders, as he began to notice that she was shivering, despite the warning in his mind.
When they reached the door, the Dodger simply rapped twice on the door, and called out "Dodger".
As the door opened, the Dodger noticed that Sara suddenly became nervous; she now stood slightly behind him. As one of the boys came to open the door, he turned and said quietly, "It'll be awl right." Sara nodded, and continued to stay behind him as they entered.
When the boys, all younger than Dodger, saw Sara, they called out things like "'Ey Dodger – oo's that?" and the room was filled with the sounds of whistles.
"Quiet, all o' ye!" barked the Dodger, and instantly the room fell silent. "Now, we'll 'ave none o' that. None of you are to lay a hand on Lady Sara, or any of her belongin's." He looked around the room, to make sure he had made himself clear, and then left off with a quiet and menacing, "Or you'll have me to reckon with."
He turned to Sara, and led her to the corner by the door, where his bed was set away from the rest of the boys beds. Most of the other boys had, at the Dodger's words, wandered away begrudgingly, but some of the others just stared at Sara over the Dodger's form in the dim room.
"It's alright, I'll keep watch," the Dodger said, somewhat affectively calming her anxious looks around the room. He turned and picked up a few extra blankets, suddenly painfully aware of just how badly off they must seem to a toff.
As the Dodger laid the blankets on the bed, and turned to hang up his coat and hat, he glanced at Sara and said, "'ere you go."
"Are you sure it's alright –" Sara hesitated, then took a step towards the bed, not wanting to seem ungrateful.
"Naw, it's alright," the Dodger insisted, "I don' mind, and though me ol' boys know I'm not to be reckoned with, you never know with this lot."
As he said this, Sara had sat down on the bed and climbed under the blankets, pulling them up to her shoulders. She smiled one last time at the Dodger, before whispered, "Thank you." and closed her eyes.
The Dodger waved away her thanks, and sat on the floor, leaning against the side of the small bed.
"Goo' night to you, Lady Sara." He whispered as he heard her breathing deepen as she drifted off to sleep.
When the first reaches of dawn touched the sky outside the window, the Dodger shook off all the stiffness he felt from staying awake in the same position all night. He turned to Sara, her dark hair splayed around her face beautifully as she breathed deeply in her sleep. For a moment he just looked at her, then roused her gently. "Good mornin', yer ladyship." He whispered.
Sara opened her dark eyes to find herself affronted by a pair of bright blue eyes, dancing as the Dodger spoke. For a moment, she just looked into his eyes dreamily and smiled, and then blinked rapidly. She sat up and broke eye contact as the Dodger leaned back and stood up.
"I know it's early, but I thought we'd best not wake the lads." The Dodger offered, putting on his coat and tucking his hat under his arm as he turned to sit beside Sara.
Sara nodded and stifled a yawn. She threw back the blankets that still covered her legs as the Dodger stood up, and held out a hand to help her up.
"My apologies for there bein' no breakfast an' all, but if I made anythin' it would wake 'em up." The Dodger finished quietly, unlocking the door, and stepping out into the streets of lower city London.
The Dodger laughed and talked with Sara, trying to keep both their minds off of returning to their proper places in life. As London awoke, Sara was delighted by life in the lower city.
"Oh, it's simply wonderful! I could walk here forever! I love the shopkeepers who don't care who they tip their hats to, the men who go to work while singing! Absolutely lovely." Sara smiled, turning her face up to the London sun that was shining on this rare occasion.
"It's nice, but you do have to watch yourself." The Dodger smiled back.
"It's marvellous here!" Sara exclaimed happily, refusing to be roused from her delight. "Nothing like home. Oh, I wish I could live here my whole life; I would never tire of it. It's like a holiday every day!"
"But you 'ave yer family to go back to," responded the Dodger quietly, "and yer campaign."
"My parents died years ago, leaving me in the care of my horrible, stiff great aunt. She thinks that women who show their ankles should be disowned, women should never speak their minds, or marry for love. We have to learn to love duty, above all else." She grimaced, and continued. "We should be like dolls, perfect and unthinking, unquestioning, to marry a highborn man and never think for ourselves." Sara sighed. "I suppose the campaign is the only thing I really stay for. It means more than anything to me."
It was silent for a moment, both of them thinking over what Sara had said. Then they lapsed back into trying to make themselves forget about reality, but reality came back, as it always does, but for them in the form of them coming in sight of the outer reaches of the lower city.
Sara laughed once more, a pleasant, open sound, before they stopped and looked at each other, silence falling as they stared into each other's eyes.
The Dodger took off his hat and bowed formally. "I 'ope you'll come to visit again soon, milady."
"As soon as I can," replied Sara seriously, dipping into a mock curtsey. They both laughed for a moment, and then sobered down.
"I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me, Dodger." Sara confessed, looking up at him through dark eyelashes.
The Dodger was quiet. "I 'ope you can join me on another 'oliday soon, Sara."
Sara's heart thudded as she smiled. "I do as well."
The Dodger winked. "I'll 'old you to your word." And then he faded into the shadows.
"Oh Dodger?" Sara called teasingly.
"Yes?" asked the Dodger, grinning as he reappeared. "Anythin' I can do for you?"
Sara pulled a ten pound note out of an invisible pocket within the folds of her skirt. "I know that Fagin will have wanted you to take everything I may have had when he hears you had an upper-city with you, and I also know I've wasted half your morning, when there are open pockets out there."
As the Dodger opened his mouth to protest, Sara responded with a wink and handed him the note.
As she walked down the alleyway without looking back, she smiled, feeling as if she had known the Dodger for years, as opposed to a single morning.