Fanfic 100 - 082 If
Nov. 4th, 2005 01:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Other Roads
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Lucy Barker, Judge Turpin, Daniel O'Higgens, Johanna, Tobias, Mrs. Lovett, Beadle Bamford, Benjamin Barker
Prompt: 082 - If
Word Count: 3056
Rating: R
Author's Notes: In addition to the usual fanfic disclaimer, I should add that the "10 things that never happened" format is not mine. I've seen it used in various places, so I don't have a specific person to credit or anything, but I find it interesting, and it worked well for the prompt, at least in theory. I hope it's apparent, but just to be clear, these are 10 seperate little AU ficlets. They aren't connected to one another beyond being things that never actually happened.
He smelled like shaving cream and beef, and Lucy had to pull backwards, looking away to mask her open disgust. “You are such a stubborn girl, aren’t you, my pet?”
Her voice was low, and gentle, though there was an undercurrent of firmness that even the judge couldn’t hope to miss. “Please, your honor, I have quite a lot of work to do. Before my husband gets home.” She emphasized the word “husband” very slightly, and then tried to stand up.
He grabbed her wrist. “Your precious barber.” The contempt in his voice was unmistakable. “With a face like yours you could have married in to wealth and power, and you squander your pearls on swine. But it is not too late, Lucy my dear.” She tried to pull away, but his hand was firm and strong. “To be a rich and powerful man’s consort is almost as good as to be his wife. Your husband gone all day at work…he need never know the difference. And perhaps his business could coincidentally pick up. You could move out of Fleet Street. Move to Tierny’s Lane, perhaps…”
She did something that would have shocked her parents, and half shocked herself. She spat squarely on the judge’s boots. Granted, it would have been more effective to spit in his face, but she couldn’t completely ignore her upbringing. “Leave me alone, you devil.”
There was a long moment where the two just stared into one another’s eyes. His fingers tightened around her arm, and she was half afraid it would leave marks, though his face betrayed none of the anger she had caused. Their faces were close enough she could feel his breath, examine the cold grey eyes locked on hers in minute detail.
Finally, his voice low, he said, “On the other hand, it would be quite a shame if your husband…your…precious Benjamin…were to get into any kind of trouble. They send men away, you know.” He leaned closer yet to murmur in her ear, “They hang them, sometimes.”
Lucy shivered despite herself. With a small, choked sob, she managed, “He hasn’t done anything…you can’t touch an innocent man.”
“Oh, can’t I, my dear?” He kissed her neck and she winced. “Would you be willing to stake his life on that?”
As he leaned back just a little, grip still firm but no longer painful, she looked into his face for any sign of justice, any sign of pity. There was nothing there but hunger, so strong she almost staggered under the weight of it. And in that one everlasting moment, she knew he would kill Benjamin if he thought it necessary. She closed her eyes and could see him, hanging from a noose, body still, eyes accusing her of his murder.
And then the judge was kissing her, tongue thrusting hard into her mouth, a muffled noise escaping her throat. He swallowed down the noise with pleasure, tongue pushing in and out of the kiss, and she wanted to break away, to spit out his taste on the floor. But she didn’t. She never opened her eyes, but a solitary tear escaped down her cheek. The judge never noticed.
Danny had come back. He heard the rumors, of course. Barker transported for something or other, his wife dying or dead. They had already cleaned out the barber shop and were coming to his rooms. But what right did they have to Barker’s things? Surely his employees had more right to his things than strangers.
The teenager slipped upstairs, deftly avoiding the pie-maker and his wife below. He knew their movements pretty well, it was easy enough. And anyway, he was just the sweeper. Barker sent him to his apartments to fetch things often enough…it wasn’t especially odd. Well, wouldn’t have been, if Barker were still here.
Slipping the key out of the hiding place in the doorframe, Danny let himself in. The apartment was eerie – unlit and in disarray. The woman had been taken away suddenly, and the rooms were strewn with all types of papers and furniture. Not much in the way of valuables; a small necklace which might bring a few quid, a couple of knickknacks, a very little cash.
He froze at an unexpected sound. A baby’s cry. Surely they hadn’t… He peeked into the second room, and sure enough, the cries was coming from a small cradle. No one had bothered taking the child for some time, as evidenced by the cries and the smell. He stared at the baby for a long, long moment. She was pink and red with wailing, wrapped in white baby clothes. He should take it to the church. He should tell someone she was still here. He should…no. No one needed to know he had been here.
He closed the door to the baby’s room to muffle her crying and was about to leave when the razors caught his eye. Amazed at his luck that they were here and not at the shop (long since picked clean), he picked up the case and slid it into his overcoat. Those he wouldn’t pawn. The razors…those were for him.
Danny ignored the muffled cries that edged toward screams as he closed and locked the door of the desolate flat, walking away without a backward glance.
Johanna whirled in the door, cheeks flushed and chattering away. Her mother had a moment’s trouble following the rapid stream of French…something about a ball and a young man. Lucy smiled. “Now, now, ma petite, I am excited for you. When is it?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Maman, it’s this Friday, and I’ve virtually nothing to wear but Jean-Michael told me not to worry, as it’s just a country dance and he’s so Glamorous, he’s been to Paris and EVERYTHING, and I’m sure he thinks were incredibly provincial, but…”
Lucy nodded thoughtfully, and moved to begin brushing out her daughter’s long golden hair. Johanna continued on a tirade about the woes of living in the country and of only having two good dresses and how she wished her mother would marry again so they could live in a proper style, only now it’s all right because she would do well for herself. Lucy now and then nodded, losing the stream of French now and then before picking it up again. As she ran her fingers through the golden waves in front of her, she smiled absently.
Johanna turned around and smiled at her with Benjamin’s eyes. “What can you be thinking of, Maman?”
Lucy smiled a little wider. “Nothing, cherie.” This was a lie. She had actually just been wondering if Benjamin was still alive, wherever he was. If he was, she hoped perhaps he could see them in his dreams, as he spent so much time in hers.
Tobias smiled up at Mrs. Lovett. “Coo, mum, you made this one just for me?”
“Yes, Toby, love. All for you.” She watched the boy grin from ear to ear for a moment before tucking in to the pie. A small, small twinge of regret made its presence known as she watched him eat with relish. He was such a sweet boy. A pity he was so nosy. Quite a shame…he was so good for business and so affectionate.
He paused between bites. “You’ve been making me so many special things, mum. You’re so good to me.”
She smiled. “Well, you’re such a good boy,Toby, it’s the least I can do.” Yes. Quite a shame. But the way he looked at Mr. Todd…it was only a matter of time before the boy became a danger. And as they said, a stitch in time… She went back inside and noticed she had left the bottle on the counter. With a soft curse, she put the rat poison back in the cupboard where it belonged.
There were birds outside the window. They sang and she sang with them a little. A man yelled loudly for her to stop, but she ignored him. He didn’t understand, sullen blackbird that he was. She reached up, but couldn’t quite see out the high window.
She remembered birds. Oh yes. There was a large beautiful robin, who told her they’d be married and then fly away. Or had she and the robin already been married? She warbled along “…married on Sunday…” And the birds sang too. She remembered another cage, a prettier but emptier one. A little chick came up and pulled on her skirt and she smiled. “Sing here again, home again, come again spring…” she sang to the little one. His eyes went wide and he wandered off.
She wondered how long she had been here, sometimes. But then the big mean blackbird started cawing and she had to scold him for drowning the music of the prettier birds. He was so surly. Sometimes the keeper would come and take him away, but not for long.
She kissed her fingers and blew the kiss up to the birds outside the window she couldn’t see. Maybe they’d take it to the robin and tell him where her cage was.
Tobias was so proud to be minding the shop by himself. Mrs. Lovett was out on an errand and the devil knew where Mr. Todd was. The man gave Toby the creeps. He was polishing the counter, as it wasn’t mealtime. So he was surprised when Beadle Bamford walked into the shop. “Afternoon, gov’ner.”
“Good afternoon, my boy. Is Mrs. Lovett here?”
“Sorry, gov, she’s out. Shall I tell her you called, sir?”
The beadle looked around the shop. “I’ll just have a look around, my boy. Health inspections, you see.” Toby nodded, a touch nervous, but he was sure it would be all right.
It was not a quarter of an hour later when Mrs. Lovett came bustling in, arms full of supplies. “Toby, good as a lamb, how’s the shop?”
“All clean and ship shape, mum.” He was about to tell her about the beadle when a blood-curdling shriek came up from below their feet. He shrank back as fear and then anger flashed through Mrs. Lovett’s eyes and without a word, she dashed down towards the bakehouse. Toby just stood, unsure whether or not to follow. He finally did, wondering what could have caused the man to scream that way as he descended down into the kitchen.
Benjamin looked out his window as his customer went down to where his wife waited for him in the streets below. She was young and beautiful, though she had a slightly lost look. She smiled when her husband came out, but Benjamin fancied it was a bit forced. The judge kissed her lightly on the cheek and led her away, her golden curls peeking out from under her bonnet as she turned her head. There was something haunting in her expression, the barber had decided. It certainly haunted him, at any rate.
Judge Turpin was one of his best customers, and Benjamin was thankful for the high profile that it gave his tonsorial parlor. He could only wonder how much longer the judge would come for a shave if he knew his barber was in love with his wife. Benjamin chuckled to himself. As if the judge could be threatened by a quiet little barber.
He just wished he knew a way to wipe that sadness out of Lucy Turpin’s eyes.
The wife and the girl were out on some errand. They wouldn’t be back for hours. It was a Sunday, and Mr. B was home. Just upstairs. The thought made her tingle. She had spruced herself up as best she could, auburn hair artfully arranged, her most flattering dress clean and new-looking. She studied her reflection in the glass for a long, critical moment before mounting the stairs to the room above.
She knocked three times in quick succession. A moment later the door opened and she caught her breath as she saw him standing there. “Mr. Barker. Good afternoon.”
He nodded once, almost solemn. “Mrs. Lovett. How may I help you?”
She laughed, a little high in her own ears. “It’s a silly thing, Mr. Barker, really, but there’s a shelf in my room I can’t quite reach the back of, even with a chair, and there’s a box as shoved too far back for me. Do you think you could come fetch it for me ever so quickly?”
He blinked, and she realized it was a ridiculous premise. But after a moment, he nodded silently and came out into the hall, closing the door behind him. She didn’t move quite quickly enough, and they brushed as he started down the stairs.
Mr. Barker stopped when he reached the first floor, waiting for her. “Where is the shelf?”
“Right this way, Mr. Barker, leave it to me.” She led him into her bedroom. She was very much aware that there hadn’t been a man in here since her late husband and she watched the barber reach up to easily retrieve the small wooden box, with no comment on the fact she could have probably reached it herself. He handed it to her and she smiled. Quietly, she said “Thank you, sir.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Lovett?”
She set down the box. “Yes…I think there is.” And gathering up her courage, she abruptly leaned up and kissed him, firmly but briefly.
She drew away, her breath coming ever so slightly quicker, searching his face for some answer. There was surprise and…her heart sank. Disgust. Perhaps a touch of pity.
“Mrs. Lovett…I apologize if I have led you on in any way. But this must not happen again.” He paused a moment. “I believe, Mrs. Lovett, that I must let this serve as my notice. My family and I will be moving to a new place of residence as soon as one can be secured.”
Numb, she nodded a little.
Just before he left the room, he turned and said gently, “Please, do not follow me, Mrs. Lovett,” though whether he meant when he returned to his room or when he moved to his new home was unclear. She sank down on the bed, holding back her disappointment and pain as the door closed with a soft but undeniably final click.
The old man lived in a shack, not too far from the penal colony. He had been given some land, and farmed it for awhile, but now he was too old for that sort of thing. The village children, for there were children now, would see him sitting, staring out at nothing for long periods of time, and wonder what he did, and whether he saw the remains of his grizzly crimes in front of him. Old Farmer Ben, as they called him, became their boogeyman, and they threatened to feed one another to him, taking great delight in scaring one another silly.
Every now and then, he would beckon a child over, usually a little blonde girl, and give her a shilling. He never said a word, though sometimes he would pat the girl on the head. It became a sort of club, to have been given a shilling by Old Ben. No one knew why he didn’t speak or why he was so sad-looking, though there were many stories about it.
When he finally died, a very old man indeed, one woman who had been a member of the shilling club brought flowers to his grave. Everyone knew he had died; but there was no one to mourn. The flowers sat, alone on his grave, reminiscent of the man sitting alone in front of his house.
“But first, sir, I think — a shave.”
“The closest I ever gave.”
He cleaned the blade carefully. It was still the slightest bit warm from the Irishman, but the water cooled it nicely. The judge sat in his chair, humming and relaxed, and Benjamin couldn’t help smiling to himself. It was a quiet smile, but one filled with true pleasure.
Tucking the bib carefully over the judges’ clothes, he lathered him up, taking up the tune where Turpin had left off. A smile twisted the judges’ lip as well and for just a moment, Benjamin saw those lips pressed against Lucy’s. A very small shudder of disgust went through him, but the judge’s eyes were closed. “Make haste.”
“Yes, of course, your honor.” He flicked the razor open wide with a practiced motion of the wrist. Pressing the blade to the base of the other man’s throat, he murmured, “First stroke for Johanna.” The judge smiled a little wider without opening his eyes.
It was shallow, the first cut. Painful, apparently, and it began bleeding immediately, but the judge’s eyes snapped open, still full of awareness. The blade pressed hard to his throat kept him from moving or crying out. Benjamin smiled wider. “The second for Lucy.”
O’Higgins had been a nice warm up, in some ways. He had a better idea, now, of how to do it. The blade bit into the flesh and ruby colored blood flowed down, onto the bib and Benjamin’s hands as he continued to cut deeper, sliding the sharp blade down into the judge’s throat.
He made a sort of choked, gurgling sound as his life spilled out over his clothing. Benjamin held him, almost tenderly, applying firm pressure until his breath, his movement, slowed and finally stopped. For a long moment, Benjamin just sat there, the sight of this man’s death filling his features with a delight they hadn’t expressed in almost twenty years.
There was a pounding on the stairs, and he could hear Mrs. Lovett’s voice trying to restrain whoever it was, to no avail. There was only time to straighten and stand before Anthony burst through the door, all youthful enthusiasm.
“Johanna marries me Mon…day…” He trailed off and horror filled his features as he took in the man in the chair, and looked up at Sweeney standing over him. “Mr. Todd?” His voice was quiet, almost hurt, as he looked to have some sort of explanation. Something to make the scene before him all right again.
Mr. Todd put down his razor by the basin and turned to look at the younger man. “The pious vulture has met his end.”
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Lucy Barker, Judge Turpin, Daniel O'Higgens, Johanna, Tobias, Mrs. Lovett, Beadle Bamford, Benjamin Barker
Prompt: 082 - If
Word Count: 3056
Rating: R
Author's Notes: In addition to the usual fanfic disclaimer, I should add that the "10 things that never happened" format is not mine. I've seen it used in various places, so I don't have a specific person to credit or anything, but I find it interesting, and it worked well for the prompt, at least in theory. I hope it's apparent, but just to be clear, these are 10 seperate little AU ficlets. They aren't connected to one another beyond being things that never actually happened.
(i)
He smelled like shaving cream and beef, and Lucy had to pull backwards, looking away to mask her open disgust. “You are such a stubborn girl, aren’t you, my pet?”
Her voice was low, and gentle, though there was an undercurrent of firmness that even the judge couldn’t hope to miss. “Please, your honor, I have quite a lot of work to do. Before my husband gets home.” She emphasized the word “husband” very slightly, and then tried to stand up.
He grabbed her wrist. “Your precious barber.” The contempt in his voice was unmistakable. “With a face like yours you could have married in to wealth and power, and you squander your pearls on swine. But it is not too late, Lucy my dear.” She tried to pull away, but his hand was firm and strong. “To be a rich and powerful man’s consort is almost as good as to be his wife. Your husband gone all day at work…he need never know the difference. And perhaps his business could coincidentally pick up. You could move out of Fleet Street. Move to Tierny’s Lane, perhaps…”
She did something that would have shocked her parents, and half shocked herself. She spat squarely on the judge’s boots. Granted, it would have been more effective to spit in his face, but she couldn’t completely ignore her upbringing. “Leave me alone, you devil.”
There was a long moment where the two just stared into one another’s eyes. His fingers tightened around her arm, and she was half afraid it would leave marks, though his face betrayed none of the anger she had caused. Their faces were close enough she could feel his breath, examine the cold grey eyes locked on hers in minute detail.
Finally, his voice low, he said, “On the other hand, it would be quite a shame if your husband…your…precious Benjamin…were to get into any kind of trouble. They send men away, you know.” He leaned closer yet to murmur in her ear, “They hang them, sometimes.”
Lucy shivered despite herself. With a small, choked sob, she managed, “He hasn’t done anything…you can’t touch an innocent man.”
“Oh, can’t I, my dear?” He kissed her neck and she winced. “Would you be willing to stake his life on that?”
As he leaned back just a little, grip still firm but no longer painful, she looked into his face for any sign of justice, any sign of pity. There was nothing there but hunger, so strong she almost staggered under the weight of it. And in that one everlasting moment, she knew he would kill Benjamin if he thought it necessary. She closed her eyes and could see him, hanging from a noose, body still, eyes accusing her of his murder.
And then the judge was kissing her, tongue thrusting hard into her mouth, a muffled noise escaping her throat. He swallowed down the noise with pleasure, tongue pushing in and out of the kiss, and she wanted to break away, to spit out his taste on the floor. But she didn’t. She never opened her eyes, but a solitary tear escaped down her cheek. The judge never noticed.
(ii)
Danny had come back. He heard the rumors, of course. Barker transported for something or other, his wife dying or dead. They had already cleaned out the barber shop and were coming to his rooms. But what right did they have to Barker’s things? Surely his employees had more right to his things than strangers.
The teenager slipped upstairs, deftly avoiding the pie-maker and his wife below. He knew their movements pretty well, it was easy enough. And anyway, he was just the sweeper. Barker sent him to his apartments to fetch things often enough…it wasn’t especially odd. Well, wouldn’t have been, if Barker were still here.
Slipping the key out of the hiding place in the doorframe, Danny let himself in. The apartment was eerie – unlit and in disarray. The woman had been taken away suddenly, and the rooms were strewn with all types of papers and furniture. Not much in the way of valuables; a small necklace which might bring a few quid, a couple of knickknacks, a very little cash.
He froze at an unexpected sound. A baby’s cry. Surely they hadn’t… He peeked into the second room, and sure enough, the cries was coming from a small cradle. No one had bothered taking the child for some time, as evidenced by the cries and the smell. He stared at the baby for a long, long moment. She was pink and red with wailing, wrapped in white baby clothes. He should take it to the church. He should tell someone she was still here. He should…no. No one needed to know he had been here.
He closed the door to the baby’s room to muffle her crying and was about to leave when the razors caught his eye. Amazed at his luck that they were here and not at the shop (long since picked clean), he picked up the case and slid it into his overcoat. Those he wouldn’t pawn. The razors…those were for him.
Danny ignored the muffled cries that edged toward screams as he closed and locked the door of the desolate flat, walking away without a backward glance.
(iii)
Johanna whirled in the door, cheeks flushed and chattering away. Her mother had a moment’s trouble following the rapid stream of French…something about a ball and a young man. Lucy smiled. “Now, now, ma petite, I am excited for you. When is it?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Maman, it’s this Friday, and I’ve virtually nothing to wear but Jean-Michael told me not to worry, as it’s just a country dance and he’s so Glamorous, he’s been to Paris and EVERYTHING, and I’m sure he thinks were incredibly provincial, but…”
Lucy nodded thoughtfully, and moved to begin brushing out her daughter’s long golden hair. Johanna continued on a tirade about the woes of living in the country and of only having two good dresses and how she wished her mother would marry again so they could live in a proper style, only now it’s all right because she would do well for herself. Lucy now and then nodded, losing the stream of French now and then before picking it up again. As she ran her fingers through the golden waves in front of her, she smiled absently.
Johanna turned around and smiled at her with Benjamin’s eyes. “What can you be thinking of, Maman?”
Lucy smiled a little wider. “Nothing, cherie.” This was a lie. She had actually just been wondering if Benjamin was still alive, wherever he was. If he was, she hoped perhaps he could see them in his dreams, as he spent so much time in hers.
(iv)
Tobias smiled up at Mrs. Lovett. “Coo, mum, you made this one just for me?”
“Yes, Toby, love. All for you.” She watched the boy grin from ear to ear for a moment before tucking in to the pie. A small, small twinge of regret made its presence known as she watched him eat with relish. He was such a sweet boy. A pity he was so nosy. Quite a shame…he was so good for business and so affectionate.
He paused between bites. “You’ve been making me so many special things, mum. You’re so good to me.”
She smiled. “Well, you’re such a good boy,Toby, it’s the least I can do.” Yes. Quite a shame. But the way he looked at Mr. Todd…it was only a matter of time before the boy became a danger. And as they said, a stitch in time… She went back inside and noticed she had left the bottle on the counter. With a soft curse, she put the rat poison back in the cupboard where it belonged.
(v)
There were birds outside the window. They sang and she sang with them a little. A man yelled loudly for her to stop, but she ignored him. He didn’t understand, sullen blackbird that he was. She reached up, but couldn’t quite see out the high window.
She remembered birds. Oh yes. There was a large beautiful robin, who told her they’d be married and then fly away. Or had she and the robin already been married? She warbled along “…married on Sunday…” And the birds sang too. She remembered another cage, a prettier but emptier one. A little chick came up and pulled on her skirt and she smiled. “Sing here again, home again, come again spring…” she sang to the little one. His eyes went wide and he wandered off.
She wondered how long she had been here, sometimes. But then the big mean blackbird started cawing and she had to scold him for drowning the music of the prettier birds. He was so surly. Sometimes the keeper would come and take him away, but not for long.
She kissed her fingers and blew the kiss up to the birds outside the window she couldn’t see. Maybe they’d take it to the robin and tell him where her cage was.
(vi)
Tobias was so proud to be minding the shop by himself. Mrs. Lovett was out on an errand and the devil knew where Mr. Todd was. The man gave Toby the creeps. He was polishing the counter, as it wasn’t mealtime. So he was surprised when Beadle Bamford walked into the shop. “Afternoon, gov’ner.”
“Good afternoon, my boy. Is Mrs. Lovett here?”
“Sorry, gov, she’s out. Shall I tell her you called, sir?”
The beadle looked around the shop. “I’ll just have a look around, my boy. Health inspections, you see.” Toby nodded, a touch nervous, but he was sure it would be all right.
It was not a quarter of an hour later when Mrs. Lovett came bustling in, arms full of supplies. “Toby, good as a lamb, how’s the shop?”
“All clean and ship shape, mum.” He was about to tell her about the beadle when a blood-curdling shriek came up from below their feet. He shrank back as fear and then anger flashed through Mrs. Lovett’s eyes and without a word, she dashed down towards the bakehouse. Toby just stood, unsure whether or not to follow. He finally did, wondering what could have caused the man to scream that way as he descended down into the kitchen.
(vii)
Benjamin looked out his window as his customer went down to where his wife waited for him in the streets below. She was young and beautiful, though she had a slightly lost look. She smiled when her husband came out, but Benjamin fancied it was a bit forced. The judge kissed her lightly on the cheek and led her away, her golden curls peeking out from under her bonnet as she turned her head. There was something haunting in her expression, the barber had decided. It certainly haunted him, at any rate.
Judge Turpin was one of his best customers, and Benjamin was thankful for the high profile that it gave his tonsorial parlor. He could only wonder how much longer the judge would come for a shave if he knew his barber was in love with his wife. Benjamin chuckled to himself. As if the judge could be threatened by a quiet little barber.
He just wished he knew a way to wipe that sadness out of Lucy Turpin’s eyes.
(viii)
The wife and the girl were out on some errand. They wouldn’t be back for hours. It was a Sunday, and Mr. B was home. Just upstairs. The thought made her tingle. She had spruced herself up as best she could, auburn hair artfully arranged, her most flattering dress clean and new-looking. She studied her reflection in the glass for a long, critical moment before mounting the stairs to the room above.
She knocked three times in quick succession. A moment later the door opened and she caught her breath as she saw him standing there. “Mr. Barker. Good afternoon.”
He nodded once, almost solemn. “Mrs. Lovett. How may I help you?”
She laughed, a little high in her own ears. “It’s a silly thing, Mr. Barker, really, but there’s a shelf in my room I can’t quite reach the back of, even with a chair, and there’s a box as shoved too far back for me. Do you think you could come fetch it for me ever so quickly?”
He blinked, and she realized it was a ridiculous premise. But after a moment, he nodded silently and came out into the hall, closing the door behind him. She didn’t move quite quickly enough, and they brushed as he started down the stairs.
Mr. Barker stopped when he reached the first floor, waiting for her. “Where is the shelf?”
“Right this way, Mr. Barker, leave it to me.” She led him into her bedroom. She was very much aware that there hadn’t been a man in here since her late husband and she watched the barber reach up to easily retrieve the small wooden box, with no comment on the fact she could have probably reached it herself. He handed it to her and she smiled. Quietly, she said “Thank you, sir.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mrs. Lovett?”
She set down the box. “Yes…I think there is.” And gathering up her courage, she abruptly leaned up and kissed him, firmly but briefly.
She drew away, her breath coming ever so slightly quicker, searching his face for some answer. There was surprise and…her heart sank. Disgust. Perhaps a touch of pity.
“Mrs. Lovett…I apologize if I have led you on in any way. But this must not happen again.” He paused a moment. “I believe, Mrs. Lovett, that I must let this serve as my notice. My family and I will be moving to a new place of residence as soon as one can be secured.”
Numb, she nodded a little.
Just before he left the room, he turned and said gently, “Please, do not follow me, Mrs. Lovett,” though whether he meant when he returned to his room or when he moved to his new home was unclear. She sank down on the bed, holding back her disappointment and pain as the door closed with a soft but undeniably final click.
(ix)
The old man lived in a shack, not too far from the penal colony. He had been given some land, and farmed it for awhile, but now he was too old for that sort of thing. The village children, for there were children now, would see him sitting, staring out at nothing for long periods of time, and wonder what he did, and whether he saw the remains of his grizzly crimes in front of him. Old Farmer Ben, as they called him, became their boogeyman, and they threatened to feed one another to him, taking great delight in scaring one another silly.
Every now and then, he would beckon a child over, usually a little blonde girl, and give her a shilling. He never said a word, though sometimes he would pat the girl on the head. It became a sort of club, to have been given a shilling by Old Ben. No one knew why he didn’t speak or why he was so sad-looking, though there were many stories about it.
When he finally died, a very old man indeed, one woman who had been a member of the shilling club brought flowers to his grave. Everyone knew he had died; but there was no one to mourn. The flowers sat, alone on his grave, reminiscent of the man sitting alone in front of his house.
(x)
“But first, sir, I think — a shave.”
“The closest I ever gave.”
He cleaned the blade carefully. It was still the slightest bit warm from the Irishman, but the water cooled it nicely. The judge sat in his chair, humming and relaxed, and Benjamin couldn’t help smiling to himself. It was a quiet smile, but one filled with true pleasure.
Tucking the bib carefully over the judges’ clothes, he lathered him up, taking up the tune where Turpin had left off. A smile twisted the judges’ lip as well and for just a moment, Benjamin saw those lips pressed against Lucy’s. A very small shudder of disgust went through him, but the judge’s eyes were closed. “Make haste.”
“Yes, of course, your honor.” He flicked the razor open wide with a practiced motion of the wrist. Pressing the blade to the base of the other man’s throat, he murmured, “First stroke for Johanna.” The judge smiled a little wider without opening his eyes.
It was shallow, the first cut. Painful, apparently, and it began bleeding immediately, but the judge’s eyes snapped open, still full of awareness. The blade pressed hard to his throat kept him from moving or crying out. Benjamin smiled wider. “The second for Lucy.”
O’Higgins had been a nice warm up, in some ways. He had a better idea, now, of how to do it. The blade bit into the flesh and ruby colored blood flowed down, onto the bib and Benjamin’s hands as he continued to cut deeper, sliding the sharp blade down into the judge’s throat.
He made a sort of choked, gurgling sound as his life spilled out over his clothing. Benjamin held him, almost tenderly, applying firm pressure until his breath, his movement, slowed and finally stopped. For a long moment, Benjamin just sat there, the sight of this man’s death filling his features with a delight they hadn’t expressed in almost twenty years.
There was a pounding on the stairs, and he could hear Mrs. Lovett’s voice trying to restrain whoever it was, to no avail. There was only time to straighten and stand before Anthony burst through the door, all youthful enthusiasm.
“Johanna marries me Mon…day…” He trailed off and horror filled his features as he took in the man in the chair, and looked up at Sweeney standing over him. “Mr. Todd?” His voice was quiet, almost hurt, as he looked to have some sort of explanation. Something to make the scene before him all right again.
Mr. Todd put down his razor by the basin and turned to look at the younger man. “The pious vulture has met his end.”
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-05 02:11 am (UTC)Okayokayokay. *regains composure* This set up of fics make me extremely happy, because I feel like I'm getting 10 fics for the price of one. Seriously. It's like buying one cookie and getting the rest of the box for free. IV (made me want to cry!) and VII are my absolute, absolute favorites - and probably some of my favorite bits of writing I've ever had the pleasure to
obsess overread. Everything seemed so plausible, and yet it was thrilling to see how it was different from how the original plot moves. (A fine example being VII. Perfection.) Adored VIII as well, and just loved that you got Daniel O'Higgins in there as well.no subject
Date: 2005-11-05 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-07 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-06 02:19 am (UTC)I LOVE Sweeney Todd... I had absolutely no idea other people did too, and wrote fics about it. They were all really good. I think I like the last one the best...not sure why...but awesomeness!!!!
Sorry that my comment's not like the best ever. I'm still reeling over the fact there are Sweeney Todd fics. And not crap Sweeney Todd fics, either.
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Date: 2005-11-06 09:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-21 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-15 03:06 am (UTC)