Chapter Twenty – Arguments

Bill and Nancy may have been friends but he and Fagin most certainly weren't. Almost every night they would argue over something; it would start out as something trivial but then turn to more serious accusations. The boys made themselves scarce during these scenes and even Nancy, headstrong as she could be, knew it was not a good idea to try and stop Bill, even when he struck Fagin to the ground in his rage. She wanted to; she hated to see him so furious and she hated seeing Fagin get hurt, but she knew that it would be fruitless to attempt to stop them.

They would only start arguing again.

It was a fact of life now, seemingly a ritual, that nearly every evening Bill would fly into a temper, yelling all sorts of things out of grief, anger, spite… Fagin would try to calm him down, often resorting to plying him with gin, but his simpering only made the situation worse.

No-one was entirely sure why Bill got so furious. It had been a month now since the night of Jeremy's death, but, in Nancy's company at least, he'd seemed happier. He'd seemed to be past grieving, or at least keeping it hidden from the others.

But whenever Fagin attempted to talk to him as he did the others, whenever he made the slightest attempt to be friendly or comforting…even offering Bill a glass of gin…all Fagin said or did made Bill take a turn for the worse.

Tonight was no different.

The trouble started when Bill asked Fagin for his cash from the previous night's housebreaking. He went on the job alone now, yet he still managed to bring back plenty worth a pretty penny. It seemed, to all outward appearances, that he was getting along fine without Jeremy.

In truth, without his faithful partner, the job had become much harder, more dangerous than ever. And Bill wanted rewarding for it.

"Gimmee me cash, Fagin."

Fagin looked up from his account book, squinting up at the eighteen year old through the filthy lenses of his spectacles. Bill may only have been eighteen, but he looked, and acted, much older. Well on his way to becoming the greatest man of all time.

Gingerly, the older man extracted the amount of coins he deemed satisfactory for Bill's efforts from his purse; three shillings. This done, he returned to his accounts, biting back a frustrated sigh as he saw just what those shillings had cost him. The gin cupboard would only be half full after this.

Bill examined the coins, his usual frown deepening.

"I gave you plenty time to get this sorted Fagin," snarled Sykes, his voice low and dangerous. "An' this is all I get?"

Fagin winced. Bill didn't have to yell to make him afraid; the acid in his voice was almost as terrifying as his loudest shout. He didn't risk raising his head from his book, instead scribbling down a couple of figures, hoping Bill would leave him be.

"I said, this is all I get?" Bill's voice had risen slightly now, the hand holding the coins curled into a fist.

The boys and Nancy, seated at the table during this exchange, darted away to their beds as fast as they could, not wanting to be witnesses to the scene that was sure to follow, the scene that always seemed to follow.

"I don't think you realize just 'ow dangerous this job is, do ya Fagin? All you care about is sellin' the stuff, stuff I risk my neck fer, sellin' it so you can nip down the Cripples an' buy yourself some gin! Eh?"

Fagin couldn't stay silent forever; he had to say something in his own defence…

"I totted it all up, my dear…I've given you what the stuff is worth! Besides, I don't spend all the cash on gin, just some of it…"

"You dare to take tha' tone wiv me, you avaricious old skeleton?"

Fagin quickly fell silent again, hunching further down in his chair as if doing so would somehow defend himself against Sykes' verbal blows.

"Will ya look at me when I'm talkin' to ya?"

Fagin raised his head again and turned to face Bill, risking standing up and taking a few steps backwards, Bill advancing on him all the while. He fumbled in his pocket for the purse again, hoping a couple more shillings might appease the housebreaker.

"Oh yes, tha's right, give Bill the cash an' Bill'l leave ya alone! Not a chance Fagin. Not after wot you've done! All the money in the world won't undo wot you did, you old villain?"

The old man was evidently confused; their 'business discussions' had never taken this turn before. What was Bill talking about?

"I…I don't…understand…I don't know…what you m-mean…"

It was the work of a moment for Bill to pin Fagin to the wall, his hand clenched tight about the older man's throat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frankie scurry further under his covers, and Archie cover his head with a pillow to try and blot out the sounds of the fight.

"You know very well wot I b***** well mean, you stinkin' old fence! You know! You're the one tha' killed 'im; you're the reason e's dead! It's all your fault an' you know it, you're just too much of a coward to admit the truth! Tha's all you are Fagin, an' tha's all you'll ever be! A cowardly, rotten, villainous old fence, getting' everyone else to do yer dirty work!"

He shook Fagin roughly by the neck as if to drive home his point and heard, with great satisfaction, the sound of the old man's head hitting the stone wall. Fagin's feet were dangling in mid-air, his breath coming in short sharp gasps.

"Bill…"

"Nothin' you can say is gonna change 'ow I feel about this, Fagin. I trusted ya; I thought ya were a friend. Then you send us off to that house, knowin' it's dangerous, knowin' wot could 'appen, knowin' full well tha' we could get seen, or caught, or even bleedin' killed! But tha' didn't matter to ya, did it? Ya thought there'd be no blood on your 'ands..."

Bill spat contemptuously in Fagin's face; the older man didn't even try to cringe away.

"You as good as pulled the trigger."

With that, Bill let him go. Fagin fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, like a marionette whose strings have been cut, wheezing as he tried to return to breathing normally. Bill sneered and stepped over him to reach the gin cupboard; pulling out a bottle he took a large gulp, ignoring Fagin as the latter tried to get back on his feet, having to grab onto the wall for support, his limbs shaking.

Having finished his drink, Bill turned to see Fagin, just as his benefactor began hobbling over to return to his accounts. He stuck out his foot; Fagin tripped and stumbled, clutching at his desk to keep from falling to the floor again.

Bill chuckled derisively before stalking away, in the direction of his bed. He noticed some of the boys watching him, eyes wide, mouths open in shock; he could have sworn he saw tears in Ezra's eyes.

"Wot're you starin' at, eh?"

Immediately the boys all ducked beneath their blankets.

Satisfied with their reaction, Bill continued towards his bed as before, but not before giving Bulls-Eye a swift kick for good measure. The dog didn't growl as it used to, it simply whined and padded away, tail between its legs, head bowed.

--

Bill awoke only a few hours later; it was not yet daylight and a candle was still burning in the main loft. He sat up in bed, and could just make out two voices if he listened hard enough.

"I don't know why he's turned out so…violent, my dear…"

"'E's not a bad man Fagin, honest," Nancy replied gently. "'E's Bill."

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A/N: A bit of a shocker after all that fluff, eh?

Here's hoping you enjoyed it anyway, violent as it was; please R&R! ^^