A/N: This story is set after episode 13 of the BBC's Dickensian. I'm having a lot of Arthur Havisham feels.

Disclaimer: I do not own the names of characters/places, etc. These belong to the Beeb/Charles Dickens.

Please read, comment, favourite and enjoy! Your patronage is very much appreciated.

Arthur sat alone in the growing darkness as the fire slowly went out. And he was alone. He was so very, very alone. Compeyson had made sure of that. There was no one to whom Arthur could turn to. To confide in. No one he could trust. And he was bursting. Bursting to scream, to yell out the truth. About Compeyson. Who Compeyson was and what he was doing. About what Arthur had wanted, but now was not so sure. What he was. All that he was. Let them arrest him. Let him be ruined, because keeping it all inside was killing him.

Today, today he had been so close to letting it all out. When Amelia had come so unexpectedly to Jaggers's office, with such unexpected news, Arthur had been so close to telling her the truth. If not all of it, at least a good deal. And with Jaggers there as witness - Arthur wasn't sure if that was what had held him back, or made him go so close.

"You can't," Arthur's own words echoed in his head. He had choked on those words, finding them stuck in his throat.

"What?" Amelia had said.

"You don't know him," Arthur had replied. "He's married, Amelia. He's already married," he had wanted to continue.

"What? Arthur what are you talking about?" Amelia would have said, probably thinking him drunk or mad or both.

"He's married. I've met his wife. Has he not told you?" Arthur would feign some little ignorance. Pretend it was common knowledge that there was a Mrs Compeyson.

"What? No, Arthur, this is madness. Are you quite sure?" Amelia would be confused. Doubtful of Arthur's words.

"Of course," he would have said, wishing she would trust him. "I've met her, Amelia. He's married."

"You - you said I could trust him, Arthur."

"I - ," now, here was the sticking point, Arthur thought. Would he have kept the matter strictly business, or betrayed his own dishonourable and disdainful intentions? Could he have told Amelia everything? Spilled his soul? Laid it all bare, every last sin, every last dark thought and … No. His preference was for self-preservation. "I believed his intentions to be purely business. I did not realise his interests were of a romantic nature too."

"Mr Havisham," Jaggers would have said, "Are you quite sure?"

"I've met her," Arthur would say again, knowing that Jaggers too doubted him. Everyone doubted him. Asked if he was sure. Jaggers would be suspicious too, knowing the reason as to why Arthur was there in his office in the first place. Knowing that Arthur was drowning in debt. Knowing this could all be some strange ploy.

Amelia's eyes would be filled with tears, having no notion of foul-play. "Arthur, this cannot be. Why - why would he not speak of her?"

"He has not been long in London," he would reply, not really answering the question, "He was waiting for her to join him."

"When did she come to London?" Amelia would ask, desperate to know every single detail. "When did you meet her?"

Arthur knew he could never tell her the truth. Not now, after all he had done. The hour was long since past for making amends. He would just end up in tears should he try to confess. And he did not wish for Amelia to see him cry. He would not let her think he was weak.

Now, alone in his lodgings, he wiped his eyes. There was no one to see him now. When Amelia had said she was engaged he thought for a moment he was to be ill. He had turned away, his stomach knotted so tightly that Arthur had been convinced that the past day's meagre amount of food and much too much alcohol would all readily make a reappearance.

He could have punched Compeyson once he saw him again afterwards. Square in the jaw, right there in the street. Just punch him, and hit him with his stick. Arthur had been so mad, he felt so betrayed. Arthur could have made a scene in the street. Yelled and hit Compeyson. And Compeyson would have taken it in his stride, like the false, lying man he was. And later he would have come to Arthur's lodging, and had his revenge. Arthur's stomach twisted at the thought of what Compeyson could be capable of. Arthur had no doubt another beating would have been in store, and perhaps this time Compeyson wouldn't have bothered to keep it hidden from the world. He'd think of some lie for Arthur to tell as to why he was limping or another story to cover for whatever injury Compeyson had inflicted. Arthur flinched at the very thought of it, his stomach turning once more.

The room grew dimmer yet. The situation was now completely out of hand. Arthur had lost control of the reins, and the horse had bolted. Panic rose inside of him, and he tried to force it down. Arthur could not see a way out. Out of these lodgings, out of the drink, out of the debt, out of this whole complete mess with Compeyson he had ended up in. He couldn't run. There was no where he could go where Compeyson would not find him. Because Compeyson had only to say the word, and the law would be all over Arthur Havisham. Not that he would see the noose - no, that was not the punishment for the likes of him. He was just be imprisoned for a term, but Arthur knew that should that be the case, he would not survive. Not once the other inmates found out what he was there for.

As for Compeyson himself, even now, locked in his lodgings, Arthur did not feel safe. He doubted that he would never feel safe, so long as Compeyson walked free. But Arthur could see no way to have Compeyson incarcerated or otherwise removed from the picture without incriminating himself.

Back when his father's will was read, back on Christmas Eve, Arthur could have accepted his father's final wishes. He could have gone home with Amelia. He would have sulked, yes, and she would have been oh so kind about it. He could have accepted his fate. A 10% share of the business, plus salary. He could have accepted it.

Could have. But he didn't. Arthur fought back bitter tears. Now he was here, in these common lodgings with this dying fire, and not a true friend in the world. There was no way out, save for self-incriminating. Or death. Should she learn the truth, Amelia would hate him. Why, she might even disown him. Arthur chuckled darkly. Well, she could not hate him any more than he hated himself, nor disown him any more than he had disowned his own honour.

The fire now was little but glowing coals, and a chill settled upon the room. Arthur was at a dead end, and the walls were closing in. There was no way out. He had no way out.