Title - It's A Fine Life Chapter
Title - Like A Sore Thumb
Author - OblivionsGarden
Genre - Romance/Crime/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort/Drama
Disclaimer - I do not own Oliver Twist or Oliver! in anyway, shape or form. I entirely own the plot for this fic and my original characters.

A/n - Also I forgot to mention that just for the purposes of this fic, Nancy did not die but obviously, did sustain serious injuries. She will come into the story in a future chapter and we'll find out what actually happened to her. Well, what actually happened to her in my head anyway ;)
Please leave a review if you read, I'd greatly appreciate it. x

C.2

"A pretty girl was she, Dodger?" Dodger frowned at the old man who was cooking their dinner of one sausage and one slice of toast each.
"I dunno, I didn't see 'er face proper. She 'ad an 'at on." Fagin side glanced at the boy. He knew Dodger didn't lie to him, which was something given the lads profession, but with Dodger being sixteen now, would he start to lie just to get a girl around? The more Fagin contemplated it, the less he believed it. Dodger was a young man and of course he'll like women, but he's smart. He wouldn't risk anything just for a pretty face,
"Is she really as good as you say?" The elder crook asked, turning the sausages.
"Well, considerin' she got away with a bunch o' new clothes, I'd say she's got potential."
Fagin smiled a little. "Eat your dinner and get to bed. In the morning I'll come into town with you and see if we can spot her. Then I'll make my own decision. Alright?"
Dodger grabbed a piping hot sausage, switching it from hand to hand so not to burn himself. "Alright." Dodger had to say he preferred the new Fagin. Since the whole ordeal with Oliver, Nancy, Bill and his lost treasures, he'd changed. Not much, but enough. He still treated the gang the same, only now, if someone needed help or a chat without others knowing, Fagin was who they turned to. So much so that Dodger himself had come to think of him as a sort of father figure. Which helped sometimes, since he'd never had one. What Dodger didn't know is that Fagin, old and crooked as he may be, thought of Dodger as a son. A rebellious little scallywag son. And Fagin couldn't be prouder.

Early the next morning, Lyra Blackwell woke up in the back of a flower cart. Stiff from the uncomfortable nights sleep, she climbed out and stretched out her aching limbs with a yawn. She waited in the shadows until once again the London streets were busy as ever before walking amidst the crowds, filling her pockets. With her new clothes she had more pockets to stash her loot, had an easier time running of needs be and she didn't have to walk around in a flouncy dress that she despised. Taking an apple from a nearby cart she made her way down the street ignoring the looks she was receiving from other women. Women in dresses clearly didn't think very highly of girls in mens clothes.
It wasn't until midday that anybody with anything worth stealing came along. A rich gentleman was browsing various flowers on a cart. There was a rather rectangular looking shape in his pocket that Lyra knew she could get as long as the small crowd by him didn't move. However as she started to walk towards him, something caught her foot and she was sent crashing to her knees. Lifting one leg, so she was knelt on one knee, she saw the start of a small hole with a dark patch of blood forming around it.
"Are you ok, my dear?"
Lyra looked up into the face of a stopping old man. He had long, scraggly strawberry blonde hair and beard and was wearing a coat very similar to her own and a wide brimmed black hat. Glancing over his shoulder, Lyra saw the rich gentleman had disappeared. Thinking quickly and trying to hide her disappointed scowl, she scanned the old man over and spotted the corner of a handkerchief protruding from his pocket. It wouldn't fetch much but it'd be better than nothing.
"Um...yeah. Just 'urt me knee." She let the man help her up. "Thanks mister." She smiled gratefully before slipping past and pulling the handkerchief with her.

It was a full five minutes before Dodger caught up to Fagin in a dark alley.
"She hadn't stole anything." The man said matter of factly.
"Eh?" Dodger smirked. "Might wanna check your pockets." Having been the one to trip the girl up, Dodger had seen everything from the sidelines.
Fagin patted his pockets before delving his hand into one only to find his handkerchief missing. "You're gettin' old." Dodger commented.
"Alright Master Dawkins. Let's see if we can find the lady and convince her to join us."
"Shouldn't be 'ard." Fagin frowned. "Girl in mens clothes? Sticks out like a sore thumb."
"Says the boy in a bright blue jacket." The pair smirked at each other before returning to the busy street.

As Dodger predicted, it didn't take them long to find her. She was sat on a wall trying her hair up with a piece of fabric before replacing her hat with a satisfied smile. Before she could climb down from the wall thought, Fagin appeared before her. As soon as she saw the old man her hand came to rest on her pocket containing his handkerchief and her guards were up.
"You've got some talent." He stated. "My handkerchief, please." Holding his hand out her smiled at the girl. "Or you could keep it."
"What's the catch?" Lyra narrowed her eyes at him.
"Not really a catch, my dear. An offer actually." Fagin made a beckoning motion with his hand and Dodger made his way over.
"You? Y'mean...this is the gentleman that can give me lodgin's?"
"Name's Fagin, miss..."
"Blackwell. Lyra Blackwell." Lyra scowled again. Why couldn't people leave her be? "And as I've told Dodger, , I'm 'appy where I am."
" 'ere, what did you mean by that anyway?" Asked Dodger, leaning one arm on the wall.
"Exactly what I said."
"And why, miss Blackwell, do you belong in the gutter?"
Lyra's scowl deepened. "Only place I've ever belonged." She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.
Fagin smiled a little at the stubborn girl. "But think of the opportunities you could have."
"Same as where I am now with less interferin' little so and so's around." Lyra retorted staring pointedly at Dodger.
"Oi, I ain't no inter-"
"Not now, Dodger." Interrupted Fagin. "Won't you at least consider our offer?"
"Not even for a second." Lyra jumped down from the wall. "Find someone else to do the dirty work for you." And with that she wondered off down the street leaving the two men staring curiously at her back.