Chapter 24: What, Fisticuffs?!

A/N: Lol, song reference anyone? Haha, a rather intense little chapter that I enjoyed writing on massive proportions. The whole thing's really rather ironic actually. Hope everybody likes it. :-D

Warning: Contains swearing, violence, and drama.

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Nancy was entering the flat from her third night at her new "job" late one morning when she was stopped dead in her tracks. She had just barely closed the door, which was inexplicably hanging wide open, behind her when she heard loud shouts and crashes from the top of the stairs. Pressing herself flat against the wall and ready to run on a moment's notice she listened carefully. She could barely hear bells chiming in the distance telling her it was eleven, the boys would already be out for the day. Another crash, the sound of glass breaking, and more yelling interrupted her train of thought. Nancy wondered desperately if the traps were up there, had they found Fagin? Quickly looking about her, Nancy found a piece of broken glass and clutched it, ready to attack if necessary. Her grip on the shard, however, loosened considerably when she recognized the other voice going at it with Fagin. Bill.

Was it money they were arguing over again? Nancy knew that happened a lot now, Bill was very very picky about his wages. Little did she know that he wanted so much money because he was spending it all on ale and fine company in the taverns every night. Which was very hypocritical of him considering what he was yelling at Fagin for currently.

"'Ow long 'as this been goin' on then?" he thundered. Chills erupted down Nancy's spine, but not in a totally unpleasant way as she listened to the roar of his deep voice.

"N-n-now Bill m-my boy, n-no need for violence."

"No need? No bleedin' need! 'Ow the bloody 'ell could you Fagin? Nancy? 'Ow could you do this to 'er."

"Sh-sh-she chose it Bill. I g-gave 'er a choice just as I gave you a choice."

"Oh I'm just sure she 'ad a choice you cowering old bag o' bones. Slutting or the streets, was that 'er grand choice?" Bill roared viciously. Another crash, some swearing, and all the while Nancy's head was reeling. She had now gripped onto what was going on, Bill was up there giving Fagin what for, and it was all over her.

"She's fine with it Bill."

"Fine with it? Fine with it! I'm just sure she's fine with it you greedy ol' miser. Men puttin' there 'ands all over 'er and callin' 'er crude things while she suffers for your living! I'm jus' sure that's fine by 'er." Another loud crash. Nancy couldn't listen anymore, she hustled to the top of the stairs.

The table was overturned and the toasting fork Fagin used to cook breakfast every morning was sticking straight out of the wall as if somebody had thrown it there. A glass of gin was shattered into a thousand glimmering pieces all over the floor and Bill currently had Fagin slammed up against the wall. His grip on the old man was so firm that poor Fagin's feet were at least a foot off the ground and his head was coming dangerously close to the sloped ceiling. Nancy knew she had to intervene fast and, figuring nonchalance was the best approach at this point, she leaned up against one of the beams by the stairs.

"You know I'm gonna 'ave to clean this mess up, don't ya Bill?" she said in a joking manner. Bill's head snapped around as if he'd been shot, and, upon seeing the girl looking in her usual ghastly state, he dropped Fagin in shock.

"Nance?" he asked taking a tentative step forward. His eyes were wide and so was his mouth, flung open in shock. He nearly stepped on Fagin's hand as the old man scrambled out of the way and tried to recover his wits. The horror Bill felt was apparent on his morose features as he took another tentative step towards the girl before him. "Good God Nance...is that you?" Nancy tossed back her head and laughed as she leaned into the post for support. Bill looked positively sick, did she really look that bad?

"Cor! What kinda question is that then Bill...of course it's me. Who were you expecting, 'er majesty's royal guard?"

"I was expecting the Nancy I know, not this....this...."

"This what?" she asked coyly. She was sitting there forcing him to find an adjective. His face was disgusted, not with her, but rather with what she was now being forced to do. Instead of satisfying Nancy's cruel ploy, he rounded on Fagin who had just now returned to his feet.

"Is this 'ow she comes in every night? What the bleedin' 'ell are they doin' to 'er down there Fagin!"

"N-now Bill," Fagin pleaded backing himself into a corner and putting up his hands as a pathetic defense.

"Look at 'er Fagin!" Bill cried getting right in the man's face. Fagin cowered away and again tried to make some sort of excuse. Bill was having none of it as he grabbed Fagin like a dog by the scruff of his neck and shoved him before his person, forcing him to look at Nancy who was smiling back at him kindly. Of one thing Fagin was thankful, Nancy was not feeding off Bill's anger, she was in fact trying to quell it. "Can you really tell me you're alright with this?" He demanded giving Fagin a violent shake.

"Of course not Bill," Fagin tried. "She knows...we've talked about..."

"Listen to me," Bill said yanking Fagin so close that the old miser could smell the gin on his breath.

"Bill!" Nancy demanded. She could sense that if she didn't step in now someone was going to get hurt. She tried to ignore how violent her old friend had become of late, but she had seen the bruises Fagin bore sometimes when he returned from Bill's place and they'd been having an argument. Bill wouldn't lay a hand on her, she had to protect Fagin. "There's no good in that, he's right we've talked." She was standing between them now, looking up at Bill through mascara laden eyes. "I appreciate the concern Bill, but there ain't no 'elpin' it. This is my future same way 'ousebreakin' is yours. No good in getting into a fisticuffs 'bout it." Her expression was pleading and slowly Bill calmed down and stepped away from Fagin who was shooting Nancy a look of thanks she hadn't quite caught as she moved with Bill across the room. "So 'ow's business been for ya then Bill, speakin' of the like."

"Alrigh' Nance," he said quietly. He was still looking at her in shock. This couldn't be Nancy, little innocent Nancy that had laughed and giggled with him in the old days. The annoying little one who had beat him at cards and pounced on him to wake him up. That was the Nancy he knew, not this, there was no other word for the adjective he had wished to say aloud, whore. Of one thing Bill Sikes was sure, as disturbing as it was seeing her like that, she was beautiful. He wished desperately now that he had not knocked over the table and the benches in his rage, he needed something to sit down on. He leaned against a beam for support because the truth was, her looks had made him go weak in the knees. Bill listened as she turned things right side up and swept up the gin. Fagin was prattling on about something, something that had to do with the Dodger. Bill wasn't quite listening though, he couldn't stop staring at the beautiful woman before him.

He sat down as soon as she had the benches right side up and stared after her. It was as though it wasn't the same girl, not the same one at all. This wasn't the giggly little six year old she had been, or even the childish fifteen year old from a few days previous that had been furious over losing a simple card game. That thought made Bill's head spin all the more, had that really only been a few days ago?

"I 'ave to go Fagin," Bill said quickly. "See you around then Nance?"

"'Course Bill," she said with a distracted nod. Eagerly Bill pulled on his had and headed for the door, calling Bulls-Eye who had been resting in the corner away from the violent scene that whole time. Bill gulped in fresh air as he exited the flat, trying to clear his head. He couldn't stand to be in there, she was overwhelming.

Fagin chuckled as he watched Bill run off. Mr. Sikes may have been a particularly violent man, but he was none too good at keeping his emotions concealed. Granted, the only emotions he usually showed were sadness or anger, but this was a new one Fagin had quickly picked up on. Bill had feelings for the stunning young woman sweeping up a broken gin bottle, of this much Fagin was certain.

"What you on about then Fagin?" she asked curiously as she dumped the shards out the window and put the broom in a corner.

"Nothing my dear," he said chuckling again. "Nothing at all."