Chapter Thirty-Seven – A Struggle & A Visitor
"Wot did ya do tha' for?"
"I'm sorry Mister Fagin got mad at ya…"
"I 'eard you two are off 'ouse-breakin'!"
"Bill…get out of 'ere…take the b***** dog an' run!"
"'S too late Bill…"
"Bill what…oh…oh gawd…oh gawd…"
"It's not weak to cry, my dear…"
"We're friends now, ain't we? True friends? Forever?"
"You thought there'd be no blood on your 'ands…You as good as pulled the trigger."
It was the old nightmare, a nightmare that had long since faded but was now back with all its full-blown ferocity, not to mention the addition of Nancy into the bargain. The dream was bad enough with the gunshot, blood and screams, but now there was guilt interlaced there too. Nancy and he had been friends, and now they were even more than that…but things had been different then…things had changed…he wasn't the same man…
"You're Bill Sykes? The Bill Sykes?"
He used to be admired and looked up to as a shining example; by Fagin, Jeremy, Norman and Frankie, even Morris on occasion. And Nancy too. Even when it seemed as though she'd rather stick around with Dodger and the others, she'd loved him all along. And she still loved him.
But how could she?
He was no longer someone to be looked up to in the sense that he was the epitome of brilliance at what he did (although that still rang true). He was someone to look up to because, if you didn't, your throat would be torn out long before you could find words of apology. He was a man to be feared; a very violent man.
"It ain't right to 'it a lady Morris…learn some manners."
"Gawd Nance…I'm so so sorry…I swear, this'll never happen again, I swear."
He knew what he'd been doing tonight. He'd hit her; he'd hit Nancy. He'd sworn he'd never do it again…the first time he'd been drunk, he hadn't known what he was doing…but tonight…
But it was her fault…she was the one invading his mind, driving him mad! Not only could she do that, but she could make him feel guilty too! He wasn't guilty of anything; he'd done nothing wrong! He couldn't show weakness, he couldn't have any weaknesses…the greatest man of all time, the man he was destined to be, could have no weaknesses.
This struggle, there was no other word for it, was constantly raging inside the young housebreaker but tonight it felt worse than ever before…he felt as though he truly was going mad…
RAT-A-TAT-TAT!
The loud rapping on the door jerked Bill from his uneasy slumber. Cracking open his eyes a fraction he spotted Nancy, tousle-haired and wide-eyed, scurrying to open the door. Bill continued to watch as she lifted the latch and admitted the visitor…it was none other than Fagin.
Bill didn't know who else he'd been hoping to see, but it certainly hadn't been him. Besides, what was Fagin doing here at this hour of the night?
The fact that Bill was not fully conscious meant he couldn't make out much of the conversation; not Fagin's agitated whispers nor Nancy's murmured replies, equally as worried. He was able to catch a few stray words, words which, when cobbled together, made even less sense than when set apart.
Dodger…traps…the bridge…fever…
"Will 'e be alright?"
A pause.
"Can't say for certain, my dear. None of the usual treatments are working, y'see…"
"Have you contacted a doc-"
"Course not; the lot of 'em are a bunch of worthless quacks!"
"An'…an' the traps? They ain't found yer?"
A sharp intake of breath from the old man.
"Who knows? I ain't seen any on my way over, but…"
More un-intelligible murmurs.
Then;
"N-no…it can't be! It couldn't be! You're lyin' Fagin! 'E would never-"
"I've told many lies in my time, my dear, but this isn't one of them…"
"Is tha' why they-"
"Most likely."
"But…don't you reckon tha' wos a lie too? The letter? D'you reckon 'e could be…y'know…workin' wiv the traps, tryin' to get the lot of us in the clink?"
"You're talking nonsense my dear, nonsense. A touch of the fever yourself, perhaps?"
"I'm fine, Fagin. It's Dodge we should both be worryin' about…"
"My dear…"
Another pause.
"How…how are things…here? With…with Bill?"
"I said, Fagin, I'm fine. Get back to Dodge, look after 'im best you can…"
"But-"
"You know I'd come now if I could…but I can't leave Bill…not now…"
"Very well, my dear. I'll see you in the morning, then."
"'Course Fagin. 'Night."
The door closed with a snap and Bill heard Nancy's footsteps as she came back to the bed. The mattress creaked even under her slight weight, and Bill heard her sigh as she pulled the duvet more tightly about her.
The pair of them lay there in silence for a few minutes, trying to get back to sleep and listening to the wind rattling at the windowpanes. Bill felt Nancy shiver slightly as she huddled further under the duvet; he reached over and wound his arms around her, hugging her close to him.
If she wasn't dreaming she guessed Bill would want to be left alone, but at the same time she wanted to comfort him somehow, make him feel better. Leaning over slightly, she managed to wrap her arms around one of Bill's, in an awkward sort of hug.
Nancy smiled gently at this gesture and gradually her breathing became more even as she drifted off to sleep.
Bill lay awake long after Nancy had fallen asleep, mulling over in his mind what she and Fagin had said. It didn't take long, however, for his eyelids to droop and his thoughts to become muddled.
Whatever they'd talked about, it could wait till morning, surely.
Just before he succumbed to unconsciousness, he turned to look at Nancy, so calm and peaceful in her slumber. He couldn't help but smile as he looked at her.
"Nance," he whispered drowsily, although he knew she couldn't hear him. "I'm sorry."
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A/N: Here's hoping you enjoyed this chapter, somewhat strange as it was. XD I love writing character's dreams and picking lines specifically written in past chapters for such purposes. See; there's a method to my madness. ^^
Please R&R!
