[For Danny]
Before the Island, Dodger had never had a real mattress, especially not one all to himself. To have an entire room for just him to sleep in seemed an unimaginable luxury, and he enjoyed that for what it was. Except, Dodger had never fallen asleep alone prior to the Island - even before he ran with Fagin, the odd doorways and such that he’d slept in had always been surrounded by other street children and passers-by. And, what he’d quickly learned, was that he didn’t like trying to sleep by his lonesome - it was too quiet, and empty, and made him feel awfully alone in the world. More often then not, he slept better on the nights when he slept on Karen’s floor, that feeling far more familiar to him.
The upside of having his own room, of course, was that it kept his nightmares to himself. Like anyone, he’d had nightmares before the Island, but never like this.
Things started out alright - a game of cards with the boys, Nancy smiling and her arm around Dodger’s shoulder, or something of the like. Then he, rather than Bet, would go up the suddenly much longer and narrower dark flight of stairs to Bill and Nancy’s room, and the blood wouldn’t just be in a puddle under the door, but would still be seeping out, gushing down the stairs. When he opened the door, Nancy stood there, staring at him with an anger and hatred she’d never directed towards him while living, her body bloody and broken, raising her finger to point at him in blame. Then Fagin would be simpering at him from the side, and Bull’s Eye growling, teeth bared and drawing his legs in ready to pounce, and Sikes would be smirking, raising his club - then all at once the dog would tear into him, and the club slam down, all while Nancy watched, and Dodger would wake up like a shot, sick with guilt and terror.
It wouldn’t always happen altogether or in that order, but even in disparate flashes and pieces it was enough to make him ill. It was only every so often that he had a nightmare on the Island, until the month turned to December and the Island decided to change into something hauntingly familiar to Dodger’s London. In the daylight, he half expected Fagin or Toby to start banging on his door, part of the act along with the scenery, or, worse, for the phantoms to take on the shape of Sikes or Nancy. Then, all alone in his room, with only his candle to light things, the atmosphere so familiar to his own time, the nightmares got worse, and he would stare at his door in the wee hours and wait, terrified, for Bill to barge in on him, or to hear the dog bark, or for blood to start creeping underneath the wooden door.
A few weeks into the month, he was at the end of his rope. Thing was, he didn’t want to worry Karen, and didn’t want to impose on Dodge, and couldn’t stand to be in the Homestead a minute longer - and he was afraid, so afraid, that something supernatural would happen. So, when he couldn’t stand it anymore in the middle of one night, he gathered up his pillow and blanket into a sort of bedroll, and trekked through the darkness and the snow to Danny and Steve’s. Danny had said he could come by whenever he needed - and, while Dodger was still wary around the former police officer, he figured desperately that if anyone could help protect him in the darkness, it would be him and his covey.
He rapped on the door, heart beating furiously quick as he waited on the doorstep, terrified of the night around him. “Hullo?”
The upside of having his own room, of course, was that it kept his nightmares to himself. Like anyone, he’d had nightmares before the Island, but never like this.
Things started out alright - a game of cards with the boys, Nancy smiling and her arm around Dodger’s shoulder, or something of the like. Then he, rather than Bet, would go up the suddenly much longer and narrower dark flight of stairs to Bill and Nancy’s room, and the blood wouldn’t just be in a puddle under the door, but would still be seeping out, gushing down the stairs. When he opened the door, Nancy stood there, staring at him with an anger and hatred she’d never directed towards him while living, her body bloody and broken, raising her finger to point at him in blame. Then Fagin would be simpering at him from the side, and Bull’s Eye growling, teeth bared and drawing his legs in ready to pounce, and Sikes would be smirking, raising his club - then all at once the dog would tear into him, and the club slam down, all while Nancy watched, and Dodger would wake up like a shot, sick with guilt and terror.
It wouldn’t always happen altogether or in that order, but even in disparate flashes and pieces it was enough to make him ill. It was only every so often that he had a nightmare on the Island, until the month turned to December and the Island decided to change into something hauntingly familiar to Dodger’s London. In the daylight, he half expected Fagin or Toby to start banging on his door, part of the act along with the scenery, or, worse, for the phantoms to take on the shape of Sikes or Nancy. Then, all alone in his room, with only his candle to light things, the atmosphere so familiar to his own time, the nightmares got worse, and he would stare at his door in the wee hours and wait, terrified, for Bill to barge in on him, or to hear the dog bark, or for blood to start creeping underneath the wooden door.
A few weeks into the month, he was at the end of his rope. Thing was, he didn’t want to worry Karen, and didn’t want to impose on Dodge, and couldn’t stand to be in the Homestead a minute longer - and he was afraid, so afraid, that something supernatural would happen. So, when he couldn’t stand it anymore in the middle of one night, he gathered up his pillow and blanket into a sort of bedroll, and trekked through the darkness and the snow to Danny and Steve’s. Danny had said he could come by whenever he needed - and, while Dodger was still wary around the former police officer, he figured desperately that if anyone could help protect him in the darkness, it would be him and his covey.
He rapped on the door, heart beating furiously quick as he waited on the doorstep, terrified of the night around him. “Hullo?”