Fanfic 100 - 033, Too Much
Feb. 11th, 2006 09:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Fracture, part 5
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Tobias
Prompt: 033, Too Much
Word Count: 487
Rating: PG
Summary: Part five of five.
Author's Notes: I don't want to say too much, really, except that I did enjoy writing this one quite a bit. And that the two interwoven fics connected to this one will be coming eventually. Oh, and to apologize that it's late - I didn't get internet access this morning.
How fine it would be to rest my head,
And lay me down,
Down in the wine,
Which never was really red...
But sort of--brown...
And let not--another word--
Be spoken...
...Oh...
...How easily things get broken.
The door latched behind his daughter, and Tobias opened his eyes, looking over at the tea. Tea was not what he needed. He got up, and poured himself a glass of wine out of the decanter on the fireplace. His hands trembled a little, but he didn’t spill a drop.
He collapsed back into the chair, taking a long sip of the dry, burgundy liquid. So much that he had locked away…that he had lost…had coming rushing back to him. It was never really lost at all. Just sleeping, waiting. The darkness was there, creeping just behind his eyes, and he could feel a scream beginning to rise in his throat.
Biting it back, he got up and began to pace, slowly, wine in hand. It was almost frightening, how easy the story had come flowing out of him, once he started. Like blood from a wound that had never healed properly. They were all there; Pirelli and the sailor, Mr. Todd and the beggar woman…Mrs. Lovett. He closed his eyes. Oh, how they had failed each other, he and Mrs. Lovett. How much harm had come…
He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He almost had to smile; a venerable, respectable old man, the white hair no longer out of place, the features sharpened and not dulled by age. But he thought he could see demons dancing behind his pale blue eyes, and he could not, would not let them take him again. He would not.
It would be so easy, he knew, to slip into the warm, suffocating arms waiting for him. To escape the memories and the doubts and the fears. To just let go. It was all too much for him. He could simply obey the siren’s song and slip back, back into blessed certainty, all burden of choice lifted from his aching shoulders.
But he would never let himself slip back there again. It would be selfish, and it would be wrong. He flinched away from even thinking such a thing; how could he do it to himself, much less his beloved daughters? To Agatha. He shook his head, resuming his track around the study. No, madness was no solution.
He looked down at his wine. He could almost hear it now; the sound of the second-hand organ, the beadle piping along “Tis a row-dow-diddle dow day…” as he fed the meat into the grinder. Oh, god… With a surprising show of strength, he threw the wine glass into the fire, the blaze flaring with the alcohol for a moment. It was beautiful, the way the glass broke, and caught the gleam of the fire.
How easy to let things break. But the time for that was past. He took a deep breath, watching the images form in the sparks and then fade away, before finally, decisively, turning his back and going to dress for supper.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Tobias
Prompt: 033, Too Much
Word Count: 487
Rating: PG
Summary: Part five of five.
Author's Notes: I don't want to say too much, really, except that I did enjoy writing this one quite a bit. And that the two interwoven fics connected to this one will be coming eventually. Oh, and to apologize that it's late - I didn't get internet access this morning.
How fine it would be to rest my head,
And lay me down,
Down in the wine,
Which never was really red...
But sort of--brown...
And let not--another word--
Be spoken...
...Oh...
...How easily things get broken.
The door latched behind his daughter, and Tobias opened his eyes, looking over at the tea. Tea was not what he needed. He got up, and poured himself a glass of wine out of the decanter on the fireplace. His hands trembled a little, but he didn’t spill a drop.
He collapsed back into the chair, taking a long sip of the dry, burgundy liquid. So much that he had locked away…that he had lost…had coming rushing back to him. It was never really lost at all. Just sleeping, waiting. The darkness was there, creeping just behind his eyes, and he could feel a scream beginning to rise in his throat.
Biting it back, he got up and began to pace, slowly, wine in hand. It was almost frightening, how easy the story had come flowing out of him, once he started. Like blood from a wound that had never healed properly. They were all there; Pirelli and the sailor, Mr. Todd and the beggar woman…Mrs. Lovett. He closed his eyes. Oh, how they had failed each other, he and Mrs. Lovett. How much harm had come…
He opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He almost had to smile; a venerable, respectable old man, the white hair no longer out of place, the features sharpened and not dulled by age. But he thought he could see demons dancing behind his pale blue eyes, and he could not, would not let them take him again. He would not.
It would be so easy, he knew, to slip into the warm, suffocating arms waiting for him. To escape the memories and the doubts and the fears. To just let go. It was all too much for him. He could simply obey the siren’s song and slip back, back into blessed certainty, all burden of choice lifted from his aching shoulders.
But he would never let himself slip back there again. It would be selfish, and it would be wrong. He flinched away from even thinking such a thing; how could he do it to himself, much less his beloved daughters? To Agatha. He shook his head, resuming his track around the study. No, madness was no solution.
He looked down at his wine. He could almost hear it now; the sound of the second-hand organ, the beadle piping along “Tis a row-dow-diddle dow day…” as he fed the meat into the grinder. Oh, god… With a surprising show of strength, he threw the wine glass into the fire, the blaze flaring with the alcohol for a moment. It was beautiful, the way the glass broke, and caught the gleam of the fire.
How easy to let things break. But the time for that was past. He took a deep breath, watching the images form in the sparks and then fade away, before finally, decisively, turning his back and going to dress for supper.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 09:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 02:45 am (UTC)Oh, how they had failed each other, he and Mrs. Lovett. How much harm had come…
Ohh, how you make me want to cry.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 07:10 pm (UTC)I could go into a thousand little things that I loved, which I entirely planned to do, but I was just gawking at the end. It's original, true to character, and just a haunting portrait of an older Toby. The song fit beautifully, too.
"Oh how they had failed each other, he and Mrs. Lovett." Sorry, had to. It's just beautiful. Kudos.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-12 09:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-17 05:32 am (UTC)I love the way the imagery made the entire story almost disjointed and detached from reality. The constant play on the senses is marvelous and works very well with the insistent dreamlike quality of the whole thing; like someone said, it's quite haunting. I really enjoyed this fic. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2006-02-17 09:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-21 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-02-21 10:12 am (UTC)