Chapter 37: A Feverish Cry

A/N: Sad, really sad. That's all this is honestly. I felt it was time to get a little of Fagin back into this story. But I did it in a sad way. Hope you enjoy though, R&R.

Warning: Contains fevers, violence, pain, and being delirious.

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By the time Nancy returned home, the pain she was suffering from was unbearable. Indeed a hug from Bet had only been the beginning of the touches that had plagued her the whole night long. Of course nobody had been any too gentle with her and she had been forced to bite back tears all through the night. Her head was throbbing, her ribs screaming in protest to each step she took. Still, she had the money, Bill would be pleased. To her, that was all that truly mattered.

It took her quite a while to get up the steps, that was the greatest pain yet. She did truly have to be careful of the snow now on her boots so that she didn't fall again. Which wouldn't ring entirely lucky on her part. Finally Nancy made it through the front door of her home. The first thing she saw was Bill sitting at the breakfast table, and that made everything worth it.

"Good morning Bill," she said acting quite chipper. The smile she wore on her worn out features was enough to make herself sick. She sounded so fake, even she could hear it in her voice. She dropped the money on the table as she brushed past him and began to prepare his breakfast.

"Where've you been all night?" he growled. Nancy stopped, frying pan in hand, and looked at him quizzically.

"The Cripples Bill, on the job." Bill gave her a look fit to kill and Nancy quickly backtracked her steps. Because she knew that look in his eye, and she knew she was about to get "accidentally" hurt. "You told me to," she rambled quickly. "Last night when you got home you said-"

"You've been out whoring is that it?" he growled advancing on her.

"Of course," she said. Nancy backed up only to find herself in a corner in the kitchen. Bill was standing right before her, so close she couldn't move at all. As if on instinct she threw her hands before her face in defense. He grabbed both her wrists and pulled her against him. She looked up at him, cursing her knees for how they trembled when she was trying to be brave.

"I don't want no damn rich 'un puttin' 'is 'ands all over ya, just because 'e's payed you well for it," Bill said darkly. "Do you 'ear me!"

"But Bill you said to. Good God you said to!" she cried. Anything, she'd say anything in her defense at this point. Bill raised back his hand to strike her and Nancy's eyes widened. Instantly Bill's hand dropped as he looked in her eyes. There it was, that feeling, that weakness. And it was pouring over him fast due to the fact that her stunning eyes were lined with tears.

"You're right," he said quietly. He pulled her into a hug and Nancy stood with her head against his chest, terrified. She could feel even as she relished being that close to Bill how much she was trembling. "I'm sorry Nance," he whispered, stroking her hair gently "I'm sorry." Nancy's heart rate slowed as she shook violently against him, still not sure what was going on. She was in shock from his mood swings and she couldn't even think of an articulate response. But Bill was here, acting like her Bill, and sorry for being angry with her. Finally Nancy stopped trembling enough to return the hug. Bill's hand jerked away from where it had been stroking her hair before settling absently on the small of her back. He wasn't going to feel the bump, he couldn't deal with the kind of pain he was causing her in an attempt to regain control. "I'm goin' for a walk Nance," he said. He laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head before hurrying from the room. He couldn't stay in there much longer or he'd hit her, the weakness was getting to be too much.

Nancy stood there staring after him, wondering what on earth had just gone on. She didn't know, and quite frankly she was too tired to worry about it. Nancy laid down under the covers, still shivering from the snow that had chilled her to the very bone, and tried to sleep.

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"I don't know what's wrong wiv 'er Fagin! She's been layin' there jus' like that mutterin' since I got back in."

"Nancy?" she heard a voice ask of her. "Nancy my dear, can you hear me?" Something was laid on her head, and then, "She's sick Bill. Running a fever. Did she go out in the cold?"

"Last night she went to the Cripples, I don't think she took 'er shawl or nothin'. I jus' figured she'd be alright," Bill was saying. He sounded as though he was in despair. Nancy was aware of a third voice in the room, screaming. How she wished they'd stop screaming.

"No Bill! I didn't mean it! I'm sorry Bill! I'm sorry Bill!"

"Nancy!" A voice commanded strongly. Her body felt strange, as if she were thrashing about. It took her a moment to realize that she was the one screaming. Finally she opened her eyes, things came into focus, the screaming stopped. She looked up at Fagin and Bill standing beside her bed. "Nancy?" Fagin said again, this time much softer. Nancy's eyelids fluttered closed almost instantly.

"Is she alrigh' Fagin?" Bill sounded worried. That's nice, Nancy's brain was informing her from somewhere he's worried about you. She wasn't all together there, and she felt very strange indeed. Someone was prying her mouth open, something was being dumped inside. Instinct told her to swallow so she did. Instantly she blanched at the foul taste of whatever had just been forced down her throat.

"I don't know Bill."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?" Bill was saying darkly. "You better make 'er better. Do you 'ear me? She's been on like this fer hours now. Make. 'Er. Better!"

"I'll do all I can Bill." Something wasn't right with Fagin's voice, it was strained, as if he wasn't getting enough air. "I swear it Bill. I'm not a doctor." His voice kept getting fainter, it really seemed as though he wasn't getting air at all. Finally something in Nancy's mind landed on why his voice sounded so odd, Bill was choking Fagin.

"Don't you lie to me. You know 'ow! I was like this, when I was little remember? You made it better. Make 'er better!"

"Bill," Nancy shouted. Or at least, that's what she'd wanted to do was shout. But it had come out as nothing but the faintest of whispers. Instantly his thick hand was around hers and his other was on her forehead.

"Nancy? Nance, can you 'ear me?"

"Leave 'im be Bill, 'e didn't do nothin'." That was all she could get out before everybody else seemed to slip away. She began to dream, terrifyingly horrible dreams.

"Fagin I don't understand it. Can't you do anythin'?"

"She'll be fine Bill," Fagin said, not sure of even his own words. "Jus' let her rest." Bill nodded and Fagin was just putting his hand on the doorknob when a horrible screeching filled the flat.

"ACE! NO! Fagin! Fagin they're going to hang 'im!" Nancy was screaming. She was sitting straight up in bed sobbing hysterically. "Fagin save 'im, save 'im Fagin! You 'ave to do somethin'! 'E's a good kid, 'e looks up to you. You're 'is 'ero Fagin, 'is only home. They can't 'ang 'im Fagin, they can't! 'E loves you Fagin. Why. Won't. You. Save. Him?" Nancy screeched and sobbed violently before laying flat back against the pillow as tears continued to fall. Bill looked from the spectacle Nancy was making to Fagin.

He was frozen, his hand on the door knob. The old man was staring at the young woman sobbing on the bed, his face like liquid paper in how pale it'd become. He had tears rimming his golden eyes before he looked up at Bill, trembling.

"It's just the fever Bill," he squeaked weakly. "She's delirious." His voice was hoarse as he looked back at the girl sobbing violently into her pillow. "Rest," he said. "She just needs rest." Fagin turned quickly and fled the flat, cursing himself for the tears now running down his face.