Goodness, I got home from an absolutely horrid day of school today (senior year is not supposed to be as stressful as it is) and found five reviews waiting for me! Oh my gosh, you guys, you lifted my spirits right up! I love you so much for that! So, poor Mrs. Lovett is sick and unconscious, and Sweeney's gone for the doctor. What happens next? (Even I'm not sure at this point, I usually just go with whatever I decide to do when I'm writing. Haphazard, perhaps, but fun!)
(By the way, since I first wrote this introduction I've received three more reviews, and I would like to thank you very much for those as well.)
I love Sweenett fluff! I love thinking about where I'm going to go with it next!
Disclaimer: Sweeney Todd doesn't belong to me (sigh). But God knows the man belongs with me…
Mr. Todd proceeded up the stairs to his shop for a few moments before his departure, retrieving his jacket and thicker coat and reluctantly flipping the sign in the front of the door from Open to Closed. So many people he could have dealt with today. It was rather enthralling, knowing he held the lives of each man who came into his shop in the palm of his hand. This was even more so when he did make a man his victim, when he could feel their life's blood pulsing beneath his fingers as he drew the blade in a thin, expertly executed line across their neck.
He shook himself and shut the door. There would be no slitting throats at present, not without a way to cover up his murders. He had to set his priorities straight, and first thing was first: he'd have to fetch a doctor for Mrs. Lovett. The closest one was a couple streets away, on Upper 18th. He hadn't fancied a walk when he'd woken up that morning, but he supposed that was moot now. Sighing, he descended the stairs and stepped onto the sidewalk, taking to the streets without hesitation. Perhaps, if he was quick about it, he could be slitting throats again as early as tomorrow morning.
He sauntered through the streets, ignoring various beggars and merchants who attempted to catch his attention, navigating his way up the roads and past various shops, sneering at the apothecary as he passed it. He would hate the shop for as long as he lived, for selling his Lucy poison.
As Mr. Todd rounded a corner he nearly ran into a pair of gentlemen rounding the building. His every muscle tensed.
Judge Turpin looked him over slowly, a look of muted resentment in his expression. Beadle Bamford skulked behind him, a contemptuous look on his face, ever mirroring the emotions displayed by the judge.
"Mr. Todd," Judge Turpin greeted the barber as Sweeney clenched his fists and did his best to resist wrapping his fingers around one of his straight blades. It was a busy street. He couldn't kill an important public figure in the middle of a busy street. The law would have him in seconds, and Mrs. Lovett would soon follow him to imprisonment or worse, and he didn't particularly fancy going to the grave so soon.
"My lord," Todd greeted the judge through gritted teeth, trying very dearly to hide his abhorrence of the man standing in front of him.
"How very convenient I should run into you here, Mr. Todd," the judge said with contempt masked by politeness, and Sweeney dearly imagined ripping his throat out. A more personal way to kill, certainly. "I was making my way towards your shop, willing, in my compassion, to grace you with a second chance. How fortunate for me that I should be indirectly informed that you are currently…out."
"Second chance, sir?" Todd repeated, amazed his fury wasn't manifesting itself as a hideous outburst. A second chance? As in, the judge was willingly walking into his shop to be unwittingly the fault of his own demise?
Damn it! Damn it all to Hell!
"Perhaps I should return another day," the judge said coldly. "As you are running errands this particularly Thursday."
Mr. Todd offered him a pained smile; a smile reserved for his prey, the unsuspecting men who came into his barber shop in the late evening, not knowing they had been selected to pay for the sins of their city with their blood and their lives.
Was he going to throw this chance away? The opportunity to have his revenge, to make the man who imprisoned him for fifteen years, raped his wife, and stolen his daughter from him, pay for all the wickedness he had done?
But then, what of Mrs. Lovett?
Mr. Todd felt an irrepressible sensation of guilt festering in his stomach. The woman who overworked herself in the bakery below his shop, the woman who overworked herself for him - covering up his murders, pounding the blood of his victims out of his shirts, ensuring he didn't starve to death since he lacked any appetite – was ill. She was burning up, pale, weak, and her condition would only worsen if she didn't get help soon.
He was going to let that happen?
He could, of course. Except for the fact that he couldn't. Not when this damned guilt was boring into his stomach.
"My lord," he said in as close a manner to friendly as he could get. "An honor, sir, that you should consider gracing me with your patronage. I assure you, I shall be back to tending at my barbershop in the afternoon. At the moment, however, my proprietress is dreadfully ill, and I'm to be fetchin' the doctor for her. Any time after twelve, though, I welcome you to come in for a shave. The closest I ever gave, without a penny's charge. I guarantee it."
"Hm," the judge made a noise of disbelief. "We shall see." He beckoned Beadle forward and both men, though they would more accurately have been described as vultures, swept past Mr. Todd, who knew without a doubt that Judge Turpin would not be visiting him today.
Once both men were out of earshot Sweeney let the hideous, strangled cry of unspeakable rage he'd been restraining since he ran into the judge loose, and several passersby looked at him curiously.
He'd had him! Had him once more, so close, almost able to the judge's life's blood as it gushed from his neck, a marvelous waterfall of crimson. He'd had him! The judge was unsuspecting, pious as ever, going willingly to see Mr. Todd and he had thrown it all away to fetch some bloody doctor for a mere woman.
That damned, unexplainable guilt swelled again.
He sighed. Mrs. Lovett wasn't just a mere woman. If not for her, he'd have surely been caught by now, sent back to that living Hell in Australia as a murderer. That or he'd be swinging from his neck in the gallows. She single-handedly covered up his murders, did heaps of laundry soaked in blood, and ran her suddenly successful pie shop (the last with some help from a scrawny child, but still). She was far more than a mere woman.
But he had still let the judge slip through his fingers for her. Gritting his teeth and shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, skulking along the street, Mr. Todd muttered, "Bloody wonder of a woman. She'd damned well better be sick. I gave up everything for this."
This is kind of short, but in my opinion it was well-executed. I've finally finished it, which is the good news! Now I've got to go work on updating my other Sweeney Todd fic. It never ends, does it? If you enjoy this one, maybe you want to check that one out? It's titled Like Scattered Rose Petals (which is supposed to be a simile for blood dotting the floor). It's an OC story, though… be warned.
Anyway, what do you think? I thought it was completely OOC of Sweeney to give up the judge like that, but it served the purpose of my story nicely, so please disregard it! He's such a sweetheart, giving up his revenge to help poor Mrs. Lovett!
I'm trying to get chapters posted once a week, but it's hard, so please bear with me. I currently have four I'm really gun-ho about. One's for an anime, and my most popular, so it kind of takes priority (sorry) but I also have my two SweeneyTodd's and one for Van Helsing. I try to do too much at once, but oh, well. It keeps my mind occupied when I'm bored.
Review, please? I'm begging you! Also, tell your friends! Get the word out! The more who read this story, the merrier!
Phantom, out!