The obsidian clouds blanketed the night sky, tucking the stars and moon away. The air was cold (when was it not in London?), like a million knives piercing the flesh. The wind howled like a monster and clawed at the door. Everyone was snuggled in their precious quilts and fast asleep, with no worries or cares of the world.
Except a certain barber on Fleet Street.
Mr. Todd scuffed his feet on the weathered wood floor, clutching his treasured blade in his hands. He gritted his teeth as a dull throb pounded in his head. Where was the Judge? Why doesn't he come anytime soon, to receive the closest shave he deserved? He shuddered with hatred and fury towards the malevolent creature. Filth. That's what the Judge was. The king of all vermin. His hands itched to feel the sickening warmth of Turpin's blood splattered all over the room, to sink the blade further down into his throat and to end the life of the one who killed Benjamin Barker, who killed Lucy.
Mr. Todd abruptly froze. Lucy. That despicable Judge tortured Lucy until she succumbed. Now she was dead. Gone. The poisonous thought screamed in his mind and wracked his soul.
She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't! Dead was to be gone, to be buried six feet under, to never ever breath again for eternity. How can she be dead? How can anyone be dead? Mr. Todd stumbled, grasping the side of the archaic vanity so he wouldn't fall. The jumbled thoughts of death meshed clumsily in his spinning head. He clutched the tarnished picture frame, breathing heavily.
What if...he was dead? How did he know he was alive? How did dead people know they're dead? What if he succumbed with Benjamin Barker years ago, and was a lifeless zombie slashing at throats? Or perhaps was this...hell?
Mr. Todd didn't know why he was even questioning life and death, but the panic-stricken thoughts rushed in his mind like the violent winds outside. The storm outside seemed to be muffled, overcome by a cacophony of silence. He gasped for breath and gripped the barber knife, his silvery lifeline, until his fists hurt. He needed to know he was alive on Earth, he needed to know he was alive so he could see Johanna again, kill the Judge, rid the world of vermin...
In a swift motion, Mr. Todd swiped his knife and slashed his own arm.
Boiling blood gushed out of the open wound, dying his sleeve sanguine. A slight tinge of relief washed over him until it was drowned out by anxiety.
Why couldn't he feel it?
Mr. Todd's eyes widened, horror wringing his heart. Where was the excruciating pain? There he was, alive and bleeding, but there was no pain. Why? Was he dead, and that's why he feels nothing? No...he can't be dead. He hadn't had vengeance yet, he hadn't had salvation or anything that he vowed to do when he escaped his prison. Without hesitation, he swiped at his arm again, and again, and again. His gray sleeve was soaked with human pigment and his head swayed, but he felt nothing. Was this how his customers felt? Their life's blood poured before them, but feeling nothing at all?
"NO!" he yelled. Another slash. And another. His maimed arm shook, rubies dripping sickly off his slender fingers. His head spun and breathing felt like a thousand needles piercing his lungs, but his wounds weren't aching at all. Could dead people feel anything at all?
I can't let death defeat me, he thought wildly to himself as the bloodstained knife slipped from his limp fingers. I can't reunite with Lucy, not just yet, please...
His head pounded painfully and his sight began to swirl and fade into a mismatched muddle of washed-out colors, the scarlet blood shining out bolder than any other. His legs felt weak and unstable, threatening to topple over.
"MR. TODD!" shrilled a voice. At the sound of his name, Mr. Todd felt a sudden jolt of excruciating agony sear his arm. His wounds screamed and clawed at him, wracking his insides. The pain was unbearable, snarling his mind and puncturing his veins, sending agonizing tremors throughout his whole body. His legs gave out and Mr. Todd collapsed onto the splintery floor.
Mrs. Lovett threw her rusting tray of pies and gin aside and rushed over to Mr. Todd. His whole left arm was soaked with crimson blood and the floor was sprayed with the same shade. She hastily dropped to her knees and cradled Mr. Todd's limp from, her heart beating like the fluttering wing of a hummingbird. She tore open his sleeve and revealed a revolting tattoo of wounds engraved in his pale skin. Cursing under her breath, she snatched the half-full bottle of gin and popped the cap off, pouring it onto the cuts. Mr. Todd seethed in pain as the alcohol burned like fire on his skin. Mrs. Lovett tore cloth from her dress and quickly wrapped the bandage tightly on his wounds.
"Bloody 'ell, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett muttered, heaving Mr. Todd up into a sitting position. "Wha' in the world possessed you t' do tha', eh?"
Mr. Todd didn't respond. Mrs. Lovett bit her lip apprehensively. His eyes were glossy and had a faraway gaze, his breathing was so shallow it was barely there. Mrs. Lovett tentatively shook his shoulder, but he didn't respond.
"M-Mr. Todd?" whispered Mrs. Lovett, her voice shaking. "Are you there?"
"Am I dead or alive, Mrs. Lovett?" his raspy voice suddenly demanded. Mrs. Lovett drew back, appalled by the odd question.
"'Course you're alive, Mr. Todd. Why are you asking silly questions like tha'?"
"I thought I was dead." Mr. Todd closed his eyes, resting his head on the wall.
"Why'd you cut your arm, Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett asked. "Why in the world would you do such a thing?"
Mr. Todd shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the memory. "I thought I was dead," he repeated, his voice cracking. "I thought I was dead, so I wanted to bleed to know I was alive."
Mrs Lovett's jaw dropped. "Why the bloody 'ell did you think you was dead, Mr. T?"
Mr. Todd didn't respond. He flexed his fingers that were gloved with crusting blood, his eyes darting nervously around the room.
"Are you frigh'ened?" Mrs. Lovett asked softly.
Silence. "Yes."
The answer stunned Mrs. Lovett. Mr. Todd? Scared?
"Of death?" she prodded on.
"No. Failure."
Mrs. Lovett frowned. None of this added up to failure. What in the world was going on in Mr. Todd's head?
"I was...afraid I died," Mr. Todd admitted, closing his eyes. "I thought I failed to avenge Lucy's death. I thought I left without ridding the Judge, seeing my Johanna again..."
Mrs. Lovett sighed. Everything was always related to the Judge one way or the other, it seemed. She gently stroked Mr. Todd's pallid cheek. He shuddered at her unfamiliar touch.
"Wha' made you think you was dead, eh, Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett asked.
"...foolishness," Mr. Todd merely answered, staring at his bandaged arm. It still stung as if it were on fire, but the pain dulled slightly. Mrs. Lovett sighed, brushing astray locks of hair from his eyes.
"We uh...we be'er ge' you a proper bandage, Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett mumbled. "Can you walk?"
Mr. Todd nodded and slowly rose to his feet, swaying. The extreme loss of blood weakened him, and his arm still throbbed with immense pain. Leaning slightly on Mrs. Lovett, he staggered down the rickety stairs to her living room. Toby was fast asleep near the crackling fire that painted the room a dull shade of gold. Mrs. Lovett pushed Mr. Todd into a chair and dug around in her cluttered cupboards for the roll of bandages she kept around.
"'Ere we are," she exclaimed, yanking the loose roll of grubby bandages out of the cupboard. She hurried to Mr. Todd's side and fumbled to untie the makeshift bandage off of his arm. A darkening shade of scarlet was smothered all over his arm and the cloth now. Mrs. Lovett carefully washed the dried blood off and tenderly wrapped the bandage on Mr. Todd's arm.
"There you go, Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett breathed as he gazed at his bandaged arm. "As good as...well, I can't really say new, but as good as you can 'ope for." She sighed when Mr. Todd said nothing. "Don't you ever, ever do anything so foolish like tha', you 'ear, Mr. Todd? D'you know 'ow much you frigh'ened me? Though' you was dying, scared me so much..." The mere memory of it made Mrs. Lovett tremble with fear.
She shook her head and sighed, shyly pecking Mr. Todd's cold cheek. "Ge' some rest, dearie. You'll be be'er in the morning, you'll see." She stood up and retreated to her bedroom, casting a longing gaze at Mr. Todd one last time.
Mr. Todd remained immobile for a moment before slowly lifting his neatly bandaged arm. It felt...different to be cared for by someone else, to be worried about by someone other than Lucy. It was like an unfamiliar life had substituted his own. He fingered the rough material, how it was carefully swathed with tenderness. A small smile pricked his features.
"You're a bloody wonder, Mrs. Lovett," he whispered to himself as the brassy fire slowly flickered into darkness.
I can't say I'm too proud of this one. My first slight Toddvett fic, but I'm not sure if I like it that much. Ah well, the plot poodles got me last night. It was a lot better in my mind than how I wrote it. Sucks, huh? Ah well, can't have everything. Please give me your input!