A/N: Ta Da! The plot bunnies have attacked and gifted you with this! I hope you like it! Leave Ele a review and you shall be rewarded with the knowledge of why all the rum had gone!
Happy reading!
Ele
He was cold.
And wet.
And goddamned thirsty.
Who's brilliant idea was this again? His mind questioned.
His cheek collapsed against the wet wood of his raft and he lay there, thinking he would probably perish out there in the middle of the ocean, no one even giving a damn about him.
He couldn't tell whether it was another hallucination when he saw, through his bleary vision, a ship on the horizon. It could have taken five minutes, or an hour, or days, when he heard the sound of it approaching, and then a splash, before someone was hauling him off of his makeshift raft and he was hoisted into the air for a few minutes. He felt the deck, cool beneath his skin, and voices all around him, before his mind went blissfully blank, and everything faded.
When he woke up, it was to the face of a young lad with stringy, dirty blonde hair hanging in his face as he read a book. The ship rocked gently around and under them, but he barely took notice. The lad seemed to notice that he was awake, for he dropped his book hurriedly and grabbed at a tankard of water and carefully helped him to sip.
"Who are you?" he rasped as he looked at the boy in confusion.
"Anthony Hope, sir. I rescued you from the water," he replied, urging Sweeney to take another gulp of the water.
"Sweeney Todd," he said grudgingly, and the boy- Anthony, nodded.
"The Captain of the ship would like to see you as soon as you are well enough, sir," Anthony told him.
"I am well enough now, I only ask for a change of clothes," Sweeney said.
Anthony nodded, not bothering to say anything about how Mr. Todd should probably wait a day or two before getting back up. He merely handed him some clothes and left, giving him the needed privacy to change.
Fifteen minutes later found Anthony leading Sweeney to the Captain's cabin. He found himself standing in dimly lit quarters, a lone lantern on a desk. The person sitting was mostly shrouded in shadow, but he could just make out the outline of a pair of feet propped up on the desk, and the orange circle of a cigarette.
"Captain? I've brought Mr. Todd to see you, as you asked," Anthony spoke up.
A hand waved itself, effectively dismissing Anthony.
He left, the door shutting with a solid click. He turned to face the so called Captain, not knowing what to expect.
The wick of the lantern was turned up, lightening the room enough so that he could see the darkened form of the Captain.
He was surprised to see a woman sitting there, watching him calculatingly as she took a drag on her
cigarette. He was able not to show surprise on his face, though, Sweeney Todd was an emotionless demon, he had no need for such trivial things.
Instead, he focused on the face of the woman.
She was pale, a rarity for a person living on a boat and constantly in the sun, and her red curls tumbled down her back and over her shoulders, the colour of blood in the dim light. Her eyes were dark, but he drew upon some memory he had, of eyes the most delightful shade of brown, that a person could absolutely lose themselves in. He shook his head, watching as she merely watched him, the smoke curling on wisps on the air as she blew it out of her mouth. Finally she sat up, outing her cigarette on the desk, and stood. She still remained silent, and he focused his attentions to what she wore instead.
A white peasant style shirt, and a tight black leather corset over it, accompanied by a fitted pair of trousers, hugging her shapely legs snugly. He arched a brow at her bold fashion statement; after all, in civilized society, she would have been frowned upon and possibly hung.
He found her impossibly beautiful.
"Well, since you're so intent on remaining as silent as the grave, I suppose we'll just jump right into it," she started, sliding another cigarette from somewhere on her person, striking a match and lighting it.
He kept his dark eyes on her, silently following her as she idly paced the room.
"My men think you'd be a good addition to the ship. They think there's something rather odd and foreboding about you, something that would scare off the other pirate ships when they try to raid us," she said.
He watched her with fascination, she moved with such grace, and her accent didn't sound like a lower class accent, how peculiar.
"I personally couldn't give two shits about you, whether you live or die or just jump right back into the ocean," she continued.
There was something familiar in the blunt way she spoke, the way she walked and carried herself. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it…
"But, you've got a choice. Stay on the boat, earn your keep; or you get off when we stop off in the Caribbean. Well, either way, you still have to work till you get off. Or I could just order your death."
And then he finally figured it out.
She was behind him, her ringed fingers toying with the globe she had set up in the corner.
"Eleanor Pearce," he muttered.
Before he even knew what happened, his knees connected with the wooden floors sharply, and one of her hands tangled in his hair, roughly jerking it backwards.
He thought he could struggle out of her grip, after all, she was a tiny woman, and he, a grown man who had labored in a fucking penal colony for the last 15 years.
At least, that was until he felt the fine edge of a knife pressed against his neck.
"Where did you hear that name?" she hissed, jerking at his head painfully again.
He hissed in pain.
"E-Eleanor Pearce, she was a girl I knew from my childhood. It's you, isn't it?" he asked.
"I don't know you. I've never known you," she said icily, the blade of her knife digging in so that a trickle of blood ran down his neck, staining his collar.
"You do. It's Benjamin. Benjamin Barker."