By the way, I'm setting this around the mid-1800s, seeing as that's about the time Todd started showing up in literature.
I don't own any of these lovely characters, nor any song lyrics.
Hope you enjoy.
The fire licked hungrily at the dark evening air as though it were some delicious sweet, its light doing a merry jig across the sullen features of the young woman who sat by its hearth. The light glinted in her hair, perfectly accenting the goldenness that so many men sought to covet. It also danced in dimmer reds around the shadowy room, making her think of a thicker hue…
At first, the nightmares were terrible. She would see the man, Todd, slashing at her throat, or sometimes it would be the Judge, or her savior, Anthony. Other times she would see herself slashing at Turpin and Lucy and the Beadle. She would be the one bathing in their blood.
Now almost a week was past, and though Anthony still fussed about these dreams, they were faded to little more than shadows.
Her guilt over reviling in her guardian's death found itself come to terms, and her fear that she would meet the same fate was spent. No, the truth was, she just couldn't sleep.
It seems she wasn't the only one, as she heard a soft creak in the hallway, and a short figure came into the room.
"Couldn't sleep either, Toby?" she asked the boy.
He jolted out of his thoughts and stammered, "Oh! I… I… s-sorry mum… I didn't…" His voice was weighty and the firelight was caught on his cheeks, on the tears there.
"It's quite alright," she told him, offering up one of her sad smiles. She wouldn't tell him that there was no need to cry, for she new all too well the falsity of such statements. Neither did she offer to hold or comfort the child, as her previous efforts had simply sent him running. She would just let him do as he pleased.
Toby moved into the room and sat on a couch near the back, making not a peep.
Johanna felt herself alone, with the weight of her uncertainty and hopelessness bearing down once more. She had always likened herself to the little songbirds Judge Turpin was partial to giving her, and she thought over the gilded cage she was finally free of. Yet it was all she had ever known. She was cast from it so suddenly that she was now fearful of the deep yaw that was freedom, fearful that the wings she so long yearned to stretch would fail her.
She was accustomed to similar crushing feelings, and she countered them the only way she knew how… singing. Not the song about finches and linnet birds though, she knew the answers to what that song always posed. Instead she hummed a tune that was far older, and that had no words. There was never anyone to sing a lullaby when she was small, so she came up with one herself… or rather recalled one from the depths of her short life before the Judge, for she was sure that's where it came from. After all it was much slower and deeper than anything she ever composed.
"What's that song, mum?" Toby interrupted her.
"Oh, just something from when I was very little," she answered wistfully. She turned to him and said, "Do you like it?"
Surprisingly he shook his head. "Sounds too familiar. Gives me the willies, it does."
Her heart did a little back flip at that, though she took care to cover up her eagerness. "And where did you hear it?"
He shrugged, got up, and left.
"Johanna?"
The girl moaned and curled even more into her ball.
"Johanna."
Again that voice permeated her dark comfort of sleep. It was a nice voice though. Young, kind… male?
At that realization, she jerked away and looked blearily around. She was still in the sitting room, lying on the rug by the hearth. The somber light of a late fall morning shone though every window, and Anthony was leaning over her, his hand on her shoulder, his face concerned.
"Were you out here all night?" he asked.
She slowly sat up and stretched her stiff limbs before answering with a simple, "Yes."
"Was it the nightmares again?"
"No," she snapped a little too harshly at him.
His shoulders sank at that, despair written all over him. "Please, don't do this again. I'm only trying to help you."
"Well I don't need it." She stood up, but her legs weren't quite ready for it and she tottered. Before she knew it, Anthony had her by the arms, steadying her. She might have fallen had he not done this, yet it angered her and she pulled away. In her mind, he was trying to hold her to him, claim her and lock her in a new cage.
When tears began to sting, Anthony reached a hand slowly towards her. Wanting only to comfort her and trying not to make her feel oppressed, but he failed miserably.
"Leave me alone!" she cried shrilly at him as she pushed past and bolted.
Through the big old farmhouse she ran, her bare feet thumping against cool, ancient wood and scratchy, threadbare carpets until she was satisfyingly lost.
She looked around and found herself on the second story, in some dark hallway lined with doors that she had yet to explore. There was a window at the end with a little bench beneath it. Boldly she walked to it, kneeled, and stared out the window at the leaf-smothered grounds. She had a good view of the paddock where Miss Sarah's horses grazed, and she was content to watch them for a while.
After a time she began to hum her forgotten lullaby again. Now that her fear was past she felt awful for lashing out at Anthony… kind, tender Anthony who cared enough for a girl he never met to brave the Judge and the law to rescue her. The tears from earlier slipped unnoticed down her face.
Suddenly she gasped. How long had her voice been joined by another? It was not just humming either, but singing words interposed over almost the same melody as hers. It was a man's voice though, and the song was being made much sadder than she remembered.
Carefully she listened.
What she heard was low and broken, as though the person was crying. It sounded far away, muffled. Johanna rose from her spot and walked down the hall, stopped when the voice sounded loudest, and stared at the door it was coming from just as it stopped.
It started up again soon enough and this time she could catch the words:
There was a barber and his wife
And she was beautiful…
She stood there, taking it in, not knowing anything about this "foolish barber" or his "beautiful wife," but pitying them being captured by such sorrowful sound. It finished on the word "naive…" spoken rather than sung, and a more sickening, consuming hatred had never been packed into two syllables as these.
Footsteps could be heard on the nearby stairs and instantly Johanna felt the exhilaration of being a child again and outright defying Turpin. In a swift movement she swung the door open, and shut it softly behind herself.
When she turned to see who was in the room her body went rigid. There on the bed lay Sweeney Todd, his agape expression of shock mirroring her own. She didn't gasp or scream though, and soon found she wasn't afraid. Sure this man had threatened her, but only with death. There were far worse fates, as she figured.
This was the first time she saw him since that night, and what she took in before anything else was how different he looked without all the blood. First of all, he wasn't as old or monstrous as she recalled. His pale face was framed by dark hair that spread untended across the linen, a single shock of white she didn't notice before hanging in his face. His dark eyes stared out from their bruised lids, looking like they were made of glass and set in some sort of perverse doll, yet there were no tears. It was hard to believe a man who wasn't crying could sound as he did, but then Johanna noticed the bandages on his neck.
He didn't look scary at all, but rather sickly and frail. Even his body was thin, and made to look more so by the overlarge white cotton shirt he was wearing.
"What are you doing in here?" he breathed. His voice, his eyes, his lack of expression, the rapid rise and fall of his chest… it all spoke of fear, but why should he, a murderer being called the 'Demon Barber of Fleet Street' by the press, be afraid of a young woman.
"Good morning, Mr. Todd," she said, trying to sound friendly. "I was wondering if you could tell me where you came across that song you were singing just now?"
He didn't answer, and continued to stare as though she were a ghost or some apparition. It was making Johanna slightly worried, so she took a careful step towards him and said, "Sir? Are you alright?"
He tried to push himself up, and away from her, but was too weak. Of course… didn't Anthony assure her Todd was being kept drugged, and thus harmless? Perhaps it was causing his confusion as well.
"There's no need to be afraid," she assured him, "My name is Johanna. No doubt Anthony has told you of me?"
"Johanna…" Sweeney whispered. His voice broke on the last syllable. "Are you real?" he just barely managed to get that out.
Johanna thought that was a strange question to ask. "Last I checked, yes."
Sweeney hadn't blinked once yet, and it was starting to make her nervous. She looked away, and her eyes fell on the vanity. She looked at the photos once again… the beautiful woman and the infant. It wasn't hard for her to put them together with Sweeney's lyrics. He was a barber. Here was his beautiful wife.
Then she noticed the doll. Gently she lifted the grimy old thing and looked it over, waving one of the arms at herself. It was familiar to her… though she didn't know why.
She placed it down and turned back to Sweeney, who hadn't moved, nor stopped staring. She took a couple of steps towards him, and every bit closer she got, the more his brow furrowed and the more he cringed. There was something in his face… something that made her feel as the doll had. Like he looked similar to someone she met once, but couldn't quite recall.
She felt strange in this moment… surreal. Suddenly she wanted to touch him, this man who chased away all her nightmares and replaced them with new ones. She reached out with her fingers and lightly pressed them against the back of his hand. His skin was surprisingly hot, but she only had a moment to take the feel of it in before it was ripped away from her.
When she met Todd's eyes again his fear had turned to something else… not anger, not anything she could understand.
"Get out!" he barked, making her jump back a little.
"I just-" she tried to object but…
"GET OUT!!!" he repeated, louder this time.
Then he was on his feet.
He was advancing on her.
He had her backed to the wall.
Oh God, he was going to kill her!
Johanna gave a little cry of terror and shut her eyes from this nightmare, crossing her arms over her face in a desperate attempt at protection…
"Please, noooo…" she whimpered.
"Johanna? Mr. Todd? What's going on in here?" That was Anthony, and when Johanna dared to peek between her arms, she saw him rushing over to rescue her.
But he never got to her. Instead he stopped at Sweeney who's face she didn't realize had blanched, and who was on his way to the ground. Anthony eased him to sitting and then shook him a little. "Hey! Mr. Todd!"
Sweeney made no reply. Instead he held his hands, curled into angry claws, up to his face and leered at them.
Anthony looked up at Johanna and said, "Go."
But she didn't move. "Is… is he…"
"It's alright," he said softly, "Just go."
And so she went, and ran down the stairs, through the hallways, into the kitchen, and straight out the back door…
