A/N I began this fanfic before I saw Sweeney Todd in theaters, but I liked the way it went. So if there's anything wrong, I beg a thousand pardons! And yes, I know I spelled time wrong. It was intentional!
Now that everything is as it should be...ladies and gentlemen...I give to you...The Sands (and Blood) of Tyme
Oh! Before I forget! Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd...or anything related to it (except the soundtrack!). Tim Burton and Stephen Sondheim do.
Prologue: A Choice
Blood was everywhere, in his eyes, his shirt, and his heart—
Lucy, what have I done?
He cradled her body, dead, cold, lifeless in his arms. They were together at last, but at a price he never thought he'd have to pay.
I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!
His cries were unheard, unspoken in his head. He looked at her face, Lucy's face, looking exactly as the day Johanna was born. Her hair was drenched red now, but in his eyes it was yellow, the most beautiful yellow in the world.
How could I have been so blind?
It had been her fault; Lovett's fault! She had lied to him, tricked him, all because she had faith that he would notice her if his Lucy was presumed dead. Now they both were.
It was MY fault, not Lovett's. Mine.
The two women in the world that had loved him were gone, quicker than a flash. Only shadows of memories remained.
But that was soon changed.
An offering I give,
Said a voice.
He looked around, seeing nothing but red, crimson, Lucy's face, fire!
A choice to live.
The voice continued.
He craned his neck up, for the voice had come from above.
Lucy, my Lucy, in ashes you truly lie!
A choice to see your Lucy again-
-alive again?
Yes.
"There was a barber and his wife," he sang softly, "and she was beautiful. A foolish barber and his wife. She was his reason and his life. And she was beautiful, and she was virtuous, and he was-"
Naive?
A fiery pain whipped along his throat. It was a pain he had inflicted so many times-
Toby, was it you?
-on his victims. A pain he had often imagined its feeling, but this was-
Isn't that my razor?
-incomparable in actuality.
What say you?
And he was fading, everything turning a dull red, red, red, and maroon, and black-ish, and-
"Yes," he whispered, barely moving his lips, barely making a sound at all.
For you, Lucy. To see you again.
And Benjamin Barker died, falling into the pool of blood he himself had created by his desire for revenge, no, his craving for revenge, next to his Lucy.
