This was done more as a dare than anything- crossing Sweeney Todd and Phantom of the Opera... They were about the same time period, about the same appeal, etc... I also tossed in an extra tidbit that everyone seemed to like, so enjoy! Oh, and if things seem a little odd, most of what I'm working with is from the original musicals, not the movies. And, in the case of Phantom, some of the original novel. I hope you enjoy it anyway! Don't forget, I love reviews! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING
Razors Cut Roses
Erik wandered the streets, drunk and disoriented. How long had it been since he had let her go? How long had it been since she left him for dead? He'd had to let her go, there was really no choice about it. The young man and Erik's idiot friend Nadir had made sure of that. If it hadn't been for their intervention, he and Christine would have been able to run away just fine. But no, her begging and crying for her lover had finally reached his dead, black heart. In his alcohol-induced haze, he imagined putting his hands around the little fop's neck and squeezing the life out of him. But he couldn't have done it in front of Christine.
The stench of dead fish and unwashed bodies assaulted his senses. Looking up, he noticed he had wandered into the docks by the Seine. He shook himself, trying to clear his head a little; if he had wandered this far, he could have wandered straight off the pier. Then it came to him- to just throw himself into the water and drown. He had always been cursed with a will to survive and he worried it would manifest itself in his subconscious as he went down, but a ripple of riptide eased his concern. He stood on the pier, staring into the dark water, willing himself to jump in.
"If you want to do it right, slit your wrists, friend," someone said behind him, in English. Erik rounded on the stranger, advancing on him mercilessly. The stranger didn't move, but he wasn't frozen in fear, the usual reaction. No, he stood there, calmly staring at Erik. Surprise made Erik stop in his own tracks. There was something wrong with this man, something that made even Erik think twice.
"The world isn't fit for men like you and me. Is it Erik?" the man asked. His voice was deep and there was a hint of an odd accent to it; certainly old London, but there was something else.
"The world isn't fit for anything at all," Erik replied, painstakingly remembering the English he had learned so many years ago. It had been a hobby back then, something to keep himself occupied with.
"I've seen you before. I noticed the mask," the man said very quietly. Erik frowned and began to move away, but the man laid a cold hand on Erik's arm. Erik grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against a nearby piling.
"Don't touch me!" he roared. The man didn't struggle, indeed, he didn't even blink.
"We might be able to help each other," he gasped out.
"I don't need your help!" Erik snarled, beginning to squeeze harder.
"And I don't need yours when it comes to suicide. Let go, please," the man replied calmly. Erik complied, but laid a hand on his sword hilt. The man looked completely undisturbed by the threat or the previous violence. He had a shock of white piercing through dark hair, which framed a thin, sallow face with two large, deep-set eyes. The eyes caught Erik's attention; they stared at him with unspeakable traumas reflected in them, away from the world and almost completely bereft of sanity. Erik had seen that same look in himself when he was unlucky enough to catch his own reflection.
"You're Erik. The Phantom of the Opera, yes?" the man asked. Erik took a step back and began to unsheathe his sword, but, once again, this did not seem to concern the stranger. The man smiled a grotesque grin and continued.
"I don't actually care who you are. I think we can help each other, so don't leave," he said. Erik hesitated.
"No one can help me," Erik whispered. Christine's face flashed before his eyes. He felt the sobs building up in his throat and tried to swallow them back.
"I am on a ship back to London. Paris was a stop to get supplies. Come with me to London and be my partner as I search for the man who stole my life. Meanwhile, I can help you find the woman who stole yours," the other man said very quietly. Erik looked at him sharply, but the man was in his own world and didn't notice.
"I'm Sweeney Todd, at your service," Erik's companion said, extending a hand, which Erik refused. "A month ago, I was traveling and met a young couple. The girl was quite mad and kept repeating something about a man in a mask." Erik felt something inside him cringe. Christine…
"I moved about quite a bit, for like you, I am avoiding detection. They were on their way to England, they said, but had traveled the local countryside trying to urge the girl from her hysteria," the man continued. Erik swallowed.
"And you came to find me and avenge the beauty that captured your heart?" Erik snapped mockingly. His companion shrugged.
"No, I came because I think we can help each other. I…I know what it's like to lose the woman you love to another," he said very quietly.
"I don't need help, you British snot!" Erik repeated, backing away.
"Revenge, Erik. We're both looking for it. Or would you want your wife in the hands of another, as mine has been for fifteen years?" Sweeney said, his soft voice rising. Erik froze. This man had referred to Christine as his wife. How much did he know? He stared distrustfully at Todd, who continued detachedly.
"She talked almost all night, to herself. She mentioned you had exchanged vows as husband and wife and she had abandoned you to save her lover. She was babbling about how you never left her and she could hear you in her head, punishing her for leaving. She obviously loves you very much," Sweeney said, speaking in a slow, soft voice. Erik recognized the tone he had used to placate Christine so often. He glared at Todd.
"And what's your story?" he snarled. Todd paused for a moment, but he did not seem surprised. He seemed to be composing himself.
"I was a barber in London. My beautiful Lucy attracted the attention of a judge who had me sent to Australia. I've been fifteen years away, but I've escaped to find my own revenge. And I need to find my daughter," Todd answered slowly, as if every word were painful. Erik still noticed that even when Todd was talking to him, he never looked at him and his eyes were always distant, haunted. The man was even more insane that he was.
"Let's face it Erik. We are both mad. But madness can be an asset, for how else would we have our revenge if sanity were to prevent us from enjoying it fully?" Sweeney said forebodingly. Erik nodded. He understood. And if this man understood madness, then there would be no better ally…or greater foe if it came to that.
"I won't trust you," he said sharply. Todd shrugged his thin shoulders.
"I'd think you foolish if you did, Erik," he replied, twirling an old, worn razor around his fingers with dexterity that even Erik found impressive. This man looked very much like he had used it as a weapon before. Maybe they could work together…