Fanfic 100 - 085, She.

[dolevalan]

Title: Sweet Dreams
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Anthony Hope, Benjamin Barker, Lucy Barker, Johanna Turpin (Hope)
Prompt: 085, She
Word Count: 596
Rating: G
Summary: Things change, and things stay the same.
Author's Notes: I didn't give up! I promise. Things have been rather crazy, as real life will be, and I've been (ssh) working on a novel, which has been eating my creative energy. But I wouldn't want meerkitty868 to starve for lack of Sweeney-fic. And I really do miss my fanfic now and then. Also... this is the last piece I'll ever post to procrastinate doing homework in my undergraduate career, which is just surreal. Enjoy.



Sometimes, I watch her sleeping. Her waves of golden hair cascade, loose, over her shoulders, pooling on the pillow, catching the faint gleam of gaslight from the street below through the cracks in the shutters. I never imagined it this way, when her hair waited for me in sleeping, rather than in wakefulness.

I still don’t half believe it, some nights. That fate could have led me to be the man who shares a bed, a life, with such a celestial creature. I am a simple man, and she is made of light and angel dust. But she is warm, and she is there, and she makes the most wonderful sound when I touch her shoulder.

She shifts in her sleep, in a dream, or trying to find a more comfortable position. I watch her breathe, like it’s something only she can do. I never give in to my temptation to kiss her slightly parted lips, for fear of waking her, but she always seems to silently ask me to. Maybe that is just my fancy.

I wish, sometimes, I never needed to sleep. Protecting her, keeping her close throughout the night: it is a thing I will never tire of. It is what I can give, to her. It is not much, but it is all I have. My protection, and my love. And she will have all she wants of either, because I could ask for nothing more.

Of course I knew that nothing would be the same. I am not a fool, even if I am young. It would not be like I imagined, because it could not be, and my attempts to shield her were, at best, misguided. But we are here. We are whole. I tell myself this, as I watch her sleep here, in our bed.

There are things I would change. A nicer house, more privacy. Perhaps a little yard for the baby to play in, someday. Perhaps a dog. But business is steady, if humble, and she smiles at me every day, and I couldn’t wish myself anywhere else for the world. It seems such a solid thing sometimes, our happiness, as if I could slice it in to a piece for each of us to eat with supper.

Sometimes it seems so fragile. Even her sleep. She has nightmares, and sometimes she whimpers. My arms are not always enough to quiet her. Sometimes she screams. The landlady has learned that I will reward her for not asking questions, though I can only guess what the rumors must be. And my girl trembles against my chest, like a tiny bird. So delicate and so afraid.

I have heard of those who speak in their sleep, but my wife hums. Her mind seems so full of music and good cheer that it overflows into her dreams, as if she and our girl are together in dreamland, and even there she sings a lullaby.

She won’t speak. Not of the things she sees in her sleep. I just let her cry, silent, wracking sobs and she clings to me like I’m the last plank of wood in a deep and unfriendly sea.

I hold her close, stroke her golden hair, and think of how I love her.

I wish that I knew how to take us back to where we were, when I gazed up at her as a boy, and she dropped me her key with the trust of a child.

She looks perfect while she sleeps.

And I bury myself in her hair and pray for us both.