Chapter Thirty-Six – New Normality
It had been a fortnight since Archie had left the gang. Fagin was distraught, the boys sombre. Bill was as cut up by Ezra's death and Archie's lies as if Jeremy had been killed all over again. As was usual with him he kept his emotions to himself, subsequently blowing his top at the slightest little thing.
Nancy knew to steer clear of him when he was in a foul mood, but it was so hard to tell these days. He could be so kind and gentle towards her one moment, the next he could be berating her for something, whether it was the fire that had blown itself out, or the lack of gin bottles in the cupboard. The poor young woman was terrified out of her wits on these occasions, but as soon as she rectified whatever the problem was, Bill would become calm again…as calm as he could be.
Bill had gone on a number of housebreaking jobs since Archie had left London. The job was hard enough without Jeremy by his side, but now someone else was making him weak, distracting him, making the job more difficult than ever.
Nancy.
He couldn't get her face out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. It was as if she was part of him, always there beside him, no matter where he went or what he did. It was just like those weeks ago (had it only been weeks) when he'd first suggested she come and live with him. He'd felt so different, free of his usual ferocity…and yet, as these visions of the beautiful young woman invaded his mind with alarming frequency, he came to realize that not only did she make him feel free…she made him feel vulnerable. Weak.
And he hated it. He hated being made to feel weak, powerless, inferior. Although she did not know it (how could she?) Nancy had a strange power, and influence over him. She loved him, and Bill knew she did…but was he, Bill Sykes, truly capable of feeling the way Nancy did? It was just like when he'd ran away from Fagin's at the first sign of an adversary; he'd thought Nancy wouldn't care, he'd thought he'd never be good enough for her…but she loved him.
Did he…could he…love her in return?
It was these thoughts and more that worried Sykes as he filched jewelry boxes, snatched up silk gloves and looted his weight in silver. Much as he protested that he did, after all he'd been through, deserve to have Nancy by his side, there was a part of him that said otherwise.
Often, having successfully scaled the garden fence of the night's house, he came to realize he had little to show for his efforts, so pre-occupied had he been with his thoughts and fears. On these occasions he would berate himself for his stupidity, often out loud, so that those whom he passed in the street on his way back to the flat regarded him as either drunk or mad.
As much as he blamed himself for these incidents, he couldn't help himself but to blame Nancy too. She, of course, didn't know the true reason for his fury, the real reason why he couldn't control his emotions around her. She accepted his tirades without question, knowing that Bill had difficult times on the job and assuming he needed to vent his frustrations.
But the young man didn't just stop at shouting anymore. Fagin had warned her how violent a man Bill had become, and Nancy had foolishly shrugged off his warning; she loved Bill and that was all that mattered. She would deal with whatever came her way, so long as she was with him. Little had she realized what this would mean.
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The night's housebreaking couldn't be called a success. Instead of the wealthy bulk of items cleverly stashed about his person there was a weighty bulk of anxiety preying on Bill's mind. His pockets were much lighter than usual but he found he hardly noticed, so distracted was he by his thoughts of Nancy. Her soft coppery hair, her kind, caring smile and her eyes…her eyes…
"Wot the 'ell is wrong with me?" he moaned aloud, wincing slightly as the sun emerged over the grimy rooftops, stinging his tired, bloodshot eyes.
Bulls-Eye, barely recognizable as the puppy he once had been due to the scars, bruises and dirt adorning his fur, looked up at his master, with as quizzical a look as a dog could muster.
"Stop lookin' at me like tha' you mangy brute!" snapped Bill, dealing the dog a swift kick before continuing his musings as he walked. "Oh Gawd, 'ere I am talkin' to a bleedin' dog…"
When he barged into the flat it was to find Nancy waiting for him, her blue eyes anxious. She'd set the table for breakfast but Bill barely noticed as he closed the door behind him and shrugged off his coat.
"'Ow did it go, Bill?" Nancy asked a little tentatively, bending down to scratch Bulls-Eye behind the ears (the dog had lumbered over to her as fast as his stocky legs could carry him for fear of being too close to Bill).
"'Ow did it go?" Bill repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "'Ow did it go?"
He whipped around, dropping his coat with a clatter and stalked towards Nancy but the girl, though terrified, stayed where she was, simply staring back at him with those captivating eyes of hers…
In an instant Bill had seized her, digging his nails into her shoulders, his face livid.
"Bill!" Nancy cried, alarmed. "Bill, wot've I done?"
"You know!" Bill yelled, gripping her even harder than before so that Nancy gasped with pain. "You know wot yer doin'! You're drivin' me mad, woman, mad!"
Nancy continued to look up at Bill, a mixture of confusion and terror in her eyes. What was he talking about? Was he drunk? Had he been down at the Cripples after the night's raid?
It was only then she realized, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that Bill wasn't shouting in a drunken rage. He was truly furious, he knew what he was doing, he was in control, he was fully aware of his actions…
No sooner had Nancy thought this when she felt herself being pushed roughly to the ground. Still unaware of why Bill was acting this way towards her and unaware of what she was supposed to have done, Nancy defiantly tried to get back onto her feet only to feel Bill's hand connect sharply with her cheek. She crumpled, biting back tears as she stared up at the violent young man she knew she loved.
"I…I'm sorry B-Bill…" she whispered hoarsely, not daring to even move a hand to her face for fear of another blow.
"Don't lie to me," Bill snarled, turning away from her and stalking over to their shared bed, already anticipating the dreams to come, dreams of tears, pleading…regret.
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A/N: Here's hoping you enjoyed this chapter; sad and violent as it turned out to be. I promise more of Fagin and the rest of the gang in the next chapter. ^^
Please R&R!
