Disclaimer: Ok, you guys know the drill. I own nothing. Charles Dickens owns everything.

A/N: I hate it when I get writer's block. And severe writer's block at that.

Luckily for you lucky people, my muses would not let me give up on this story! Maybe because they all started yelling at me (in different languages, might I add), or because I had just watched Oliver Twist for the upteenth time, I felt the time was ripe for a new chapter!

Am I not lovely?

Oh, and if anyone's wondering, it's another two years since the fourth chapter. So Tom's fourteen, Dodger and Charlie are eleven, and Lettie's ten. Lettie's romantic feelings have, unfortunately, not changed in the slightest. Damn.

"You, sir," Lettie said calmly, glaring across the table at Dodger, "Are the most arrogant, uncaring, deficient, ungallant, insensitive, haughty, conceited and irresponsible boy I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"Conceited and arrogant mean the same thing," Dodger reminded her cheerfully.

"And another thing…..shut up," she continued, glowering at him, "And another thing - you are plainly too cocky for your own good, as well as that, you have no care whatsoever for other people's feelings – "

"That's the same as being insensitive," Charlie cut in quietly.

"And furthermore," Lettie carried on loudly, "You simply are TOO CALM FOR YOUR OWN GOOD….STOP SMIRKING!"

She smashed her book down on the table as Dodger burst out laughing, "Stop it!"

"Lettie," Charlie snickered, pushing his hat back from his forehead and pretending to wipe his eyes with mirth, "When are you going to learn that you simply cannot rile the Dodger today?"

"You could at least have the gallantness to act insulted!" Lettie yelled, stamping her foot down, "Just one little sign of annoyance is all I ask, but all I ask, and is that too much to ask? No it is not! It is all that I wish, a mere smidgen of annoyance, for your best friend, your one, true, only friend in the whole, entire worl –"

"What am I, invisible?"

"Shut up, Charlie - and is it a terrible thing? Is it an effort, my dear Dodger –"

"Your dear Dodger? The Artful is privileged indeed."

"Keep your trap shut, Charlie - and is it an effort, my dear Dodger? Is it hard, to even react to my tirade, but yes, apparently it is! You arrogant, uncaring, deficient, ungallant, insensitive, haughty, conceited, irresponsible, callous, rash, ungentlemanly…."

"I knew buying her that dictionary would lead to trouble."

"SHUT – UP - CHARLIE!" Lettie shrieked, throwing her book at her companion's head.

The boy ducked underneath the table, "Forgive me for saying this, Lettie, but you seem to be acting angry enough for both you and the Dodger."

For a moment, it looked as if Lettie was having a mental toss-up between punching Charlie or kicking Dodger. Fortunately for the both of them, she smashed her hands down onto the table (sending one of the younger boys running for cover) and began her rant afresh.

"If you would only lose your temper for a second, Dodger! Just one, singly, tiny, miniscule – are you even listening to me?"

The Dodger, at this moment, looked up, "Sorry?"

"He's alive!" Charlie crowed, "You had us worried, Dodger, we were fearing you had gone deaf."

Lettie folded her arms, scowling, and flounced out of the room.

"What'd I say?"

"Women," Charlie told his associate sagely, shaking his head, "They lose their heads at times."

"Shut up, Charlie," the girl snapped, walking back into the room, her head already buried inside another book, "I am going to sit here," she sat, "on the other side of the room from you, and I am going to read," she finished, "and I am not going to say one word to either of you, because I hate you."

The old Jew, who until now had been sitting silently in his chair, got up and kicked Dodger (none too gently) in the ankle, "You'd better say somethin' Dodge. The last time she swore she wouldn' talk to you, she di'n say nothin' for a month."

"You talk to her," Dodger grumbled sourly.

Fagin looked up, "Letticia, my dear?"

"What?" Lettie snarled, her voice sounding more acidic than a lemon. Both Charlie and Dodger winced.

"Would you be willing to get up – well, I can see that you are quite comfortable there, so why don't I just let you stay there until you're ready, would you like that, m'dear?" Fagin sat down, hurriedly picking up a handkerchief and beginning to pick the marks out of it, "Your turn."

"Coward."

Charlie snickered. Dodger whirled round to glare at him, and he hastily turned it into a cough.

Fagin kicked the boy twice before the young pickpocket reluctantly got up and sat down beside Lettie. The girl gave no sign that she noticed him, apart from turning the pages of her book slightly more viciously.

"Lettie?"

Nothing.

"Let?"

Lettie kept her mouth shut.

"Lettie, aren't you gonna talk to me?"

Lettie's scowl became a bit more pronounced.

"Lettie, I'm really sorry."

Silence.

"And….well, actually, I can't remember what you were angry at me for – oh, I remember!" Dodger carried on hurriedly, as Lettie's eyes narrowed, "I remember, it was because me an' Charlie stole your book…..and because I pinned your dress to the chair at dinner so it ripped….and because I tripped you down the stairs. And I'm very sorry. Very, very sorry, Lettie. Extremely sorry. Words cannot express how sorry."

Lettie shook her hair out of her eyes, "I'm still not talking to you."

"Not even if I went down on my hands and knees?"

"Nope."

"Not even if I promised to be nice to that dirty rotten scumbag Doyle the next time I saw him?"

"I know you wouldn't."

"Not even if I killed Charlie for you?"

"Hey!"

Lettie's mouth twitched, "Face it, I'm never going to talk to you ever again," She tossed her hair and turned her back on him.

Dodger grinned, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Positive?" he asked, leaning his elbows on Lettie's shoulders and muttering into her ear, "Really, really positive?"

Lettie wriggled uncomfortably, "Cut it out, Dodge."

"Thought you weren't talking to me, ever again."

"Well, I'm not!" Lettie squeaked, pouting slightly, although her face had gone a brilliant scarlet.

"What if I promised that the next time I went out on a job, I'd nick some books for you?" Dodger whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

Lettie squirmed, torn between hitting Dodger and kissing him, "In that case……I may consider."

Dodger grinned in relief, shaking his head happily. Lettie was still considering whether or not a good punch would him straight, or whether kissing him straight on the mouth would embarrass him more (and that was the only motive she had for even considering kissing him) when the door swung open and….

"Bill said," Tom Doyle was intoning, as Lettie hurriedly scrambled to start reading again, "That if we didn't deal with the bloke, he'd peach as soon as humanly poss – hullo Fagin."

"Hullo Tom," Fagin mumbled, shooting a warning look at Dodger, who in his haste to get as far away from Lettie as possible, had tumbled straight to the floor, "I trust business is good?"

"Never better," Tom said, with as much authority on the subject that a fourteen year old could muster, "I was just sayin' to Nancy – well, you can ask the gel herself," He cast a cool eye in Dodger's direction, "What you lookin' so guilty for, Dodge?"

"No reason," Dodger mumbled from the floor, whose face was as scarlet as Nancy's dress, "I'm not looking guilty at all."

Tom snorted derisively, but Nancy nodded towards Lettie and raised her eyebrow at Dodger.

Dodger glowered back at her.

The older girl just smiled and sat down beside Lettie, "Good book?"

Lettie nodded absently, "Hullo Nance."

"Hullo yourself. Listen, you fancy comin' down to the Three Cripples with me an' Bet tonight?"

The girl looked up, "Why?"

"Don't sound so suspicious! It's just a little…..venture, one might say," Nancy said pleasantly. Fagin was watching the two girls closely over Tom's shoulder, "Listen, Fagin said you wanted to try...dancin' with some of the other gels sometime, eh?"

"She's a little young for that, ain't she?" Charlie asked, his voice hinted with alarm.

Nancy made a furious motion at the boy, "What d'you reckon?"

"Might do," Lettie shrugged, "What else would I 'ave to do?"

The older girl shifted slightly in her seat, "Why don't I talk to you about that on the way to the Three Cripples, alright gel?"

"Why, what else would I h – "

"Isn't it generous of Nancy to take you out tonight?" Fagin interjected loudly over Lettie, "And what a fine opportunity for you, my dear, a fine opportunity. A noble, ancient profession too, Leticia, you must think of it in those terms," The old man grinned toothily at the assembled company, "And a living's a livin', whatever else you may think about it."

Nancy smiled unconvincingly at Lettie, "Yeah," she murmured, "A living's a living, after all."

----

"Lettie?"

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

"…..No."

"Lettie."

"I'm awake, alright, I'm awake!"

Pause.

"What d'you want, anyhow?"

"Wanted to talk to you."

"Well, talk."

Pause.

"Dodge?"

"This long distance stuff can get a bit wearing."

"Oh, for……"

There was a brief scuffle as Lettie slid under the blanket next to Dodger, "Fagin gave me a separate bed to avoid this sort of stuff, you know," She muttered, shivering.

Dodger frowned, "Did you go with Nancy and Bet?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And…..nothing."

The boy sat up and stared down at Lettie, "And…did you see any of the other girls?"

Lettie shrugged, burying her head into the pillow, "Yeah."

"And?" Dodger persisted, shaking her slightly.

"And…..nothing. Why're you makin' such a big deal about this anyway?" She snapped, sitting up and leaning her head against Dodger's shoulder.

"Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm…..not," Lettie mumbled into the scratchy material of Dodger's shirt.

"So answer the question!"

"It was…..disgusting."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dodger could hear Lettie snuffling slightly, "They were making all these horrid jokes, all the men hanging around there, and they were all….staring. Like I was on show or somethin'."

Dodger slid an arm around Lettie's waist, "It couldn't have been all that bad…..could it?"

"It was," She insisted, "And…..when I saw all those gels…..looking all desperate and worn down….I….I just don' wanna work there!" Lettie blurted out, shoving her hands against her eyes.

Dodger sighed, wrapping his arms around Lettie's shoulders and hugging her quietly for a few minutes, "Maybe…..maybe you could just stay on pickpocketing…." He mumbled into her hair, screwing his eyes up. He had never touched Lettie before – not like this anyway. And she felt so fragile. Did all girls feel this delicate, or just Lettie?

"I don't want to leave here, Dodge…." Lettie sighed.

Dodger's head shot straight up. Leave?

"Leave here?" He asked, his voice sounding a lot more strained than usual, "You mean, leave here and live somewhere else?"

"That's what the other girls do."

Dodger let go of her abruptly and hugged his knees to his chest, "Yeah…well," he muttered sharply, "Guess it's just a living, after all."

Lettie glowered at him, "That's just what a boy like you would say," She snapped, moving further down the bed.

"A boy like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that in a few years you'll probably be going to places like that, and if you saw me there, you wouldn't give a damn about my feelings, you'd just see me as an object!"

There was a long, horror filled sentence where Lettie hung her head and tried to hide behind a wave of long, wavy hair, before Dodger, scowling at the blanket, muttered, "That's not fair, Lettie."

"I know," Lettie murmured quietly, "And I'm really – "

"I suppose you think your precious Tom Doyle would respect you as a whore, do you?"

Lettie's eyes flared, "As a matter of fact, yes!"

"Really," The Dodger sneered, "You think you're so perceptive, Lettie, but you don't see anything."

A/N: Gasp! That may or not have been the most dramatic thing I've ever written in this story. With probably the most rubbish ending too.

Ah, well.

I'm so mean to these characters, aren't I? Now all we have to do is eliminate Tom Doyle, get Charlie and Cordelia together, free Nancy from the clutches of the wicked Sykes, get Lettie a different job, provide Fagin with enough money to get Bill Sykes to bog off, get Dodger and Lettie together...and fit all of that around the (non-immediate, but fastly approaching) arrival of Oliver Twist...

It's just like an episode of EastEnders, isn't it?

Thankyoumuchly's to: Ericketiting (Don't worry, I don't mind you saying that. In fact, I pretty much agree), GarenRuyMaxwell (I love dressing Lettie up pretty. 'Tis fun. And don't worry, Cordelia gets nicer. Andshe isn't anything like a milk cow. I hope.), jumanji (Thanks for the idea! I'm currently writing this, but will get around to it as soon as possible. Happy Easter! about two months late, I know),Vechababe (Yes, I do insist. And yes, love traingle are so FUN to write! I'm mostly going to go along every couple of years, before the arrival of young Oliver Twist, where I'll just... write normally. Thanks for the idea!) SugarPeaches (Sorry to keep you waiting! Thankyoumuchly!) YamaNekoYoukaiChan (Thankyou! I hope you don't throw slates and books at people as much as Lettie though.) QueenoftheBadgers (As you wish, oh highest queen of the badgers...I provide more jealous Dodger! He's so fun to write. And the readers are going to have to deal with a lot more Thomas Doyle...I have evil plans ready for him and Lettie! Oh, the suspense, the suspense...)

Well, the cursed revision beckons me! Adios, amigos! Read, review and...revel in the glory of chocolate!