Just finished this one. I'm pretty happy with the result of this, I guess. :)
Oh yeah, and...
Hurray for a rhyming chapter name!
Sweeney dragged Toby through the alleys, trying to keep off the streets in hopes to stay out of the vision of the public. He didn't think it'd be a very good sight for one to spot a bloodied-up man with a razor pulling a, once again, half-conscious and mentally distressed young boy by the hand. Toby was shaking and staring straightforward, a look of sadness in his eyes that the demon barber couldn't find himself able to look away from. It annoyed him badly, actually.
Once they arrived on Fleet Street, Sweeney sprinted across the street to the pie shop (still half-dragging Toby with him). He pushed the door open and stalked inside, roughly shoving Toby down into the booth next to the door as he went. He was planning on continuing to do something..but..once he reached the middle of the room, he stopped abruptly and stood in silence.
Toby only lifted his gaze slightly to stare at the barber for a long length of time. Once they finally locked eyes with each other, they exchanged a look that could only mean one need: gin.
Sweeney let out a breathy sigh and walked into the parlor, grabbing a bottle that he found conveniently sitting on the small wooden table that stood against the wall. He brought it back into the kitchen and got a glass for himself, filling it up and downing it in one swig before passing the entire bottle to Toby. He couldn't help but feel slightly amused the way the boy tried to hide the longing in his eyes as he grabbed the bottle, obviously a bit surprised the way the barber hadn't even challenged him before offering the drink over. Sweeney eyed his own glass tiredly for a few heartbeats, listening to Toby's savage-sounding gulping. Just as he was beginning to think that the young lad was drinking too fast, Toby let out a choking noise. Sweeney snatched the bottle away from the boy's grasp and quickly brought his hand up to slap him on the back. Toby's head shot forward, and he coughed up some of the gin onto the table with a sick shudder. He looked absolutely miserable. So miserable, in fact, that Sweeney almost felt sympathy for him. He reflected on all those sleepless nights, not long after arriving back in London, where he too drunk himself into retching, in a mix of anguish and rage. That's what it took to make Sweeney realize that Toby had been through a great deal of events over the past few days. Either worrying or running during the time business had been booming. How in the world did the kid manage for all this time, anyway?
Gin.
Oh yeah.
Sweeney held the bottle out of Toby's reach, taking a more thoughtful sip of it and not caring that Toby had put his mouth on it already. Though they didn't know each other all that well, they had been putting up with one another for a while. What was another few minutes of silence that involved no lunging or shouting?
It did turn out to grow awkwardly quiet though. You could quite possibly hear a pin drop to the floor without even trying to listen.
"...Why did Luke seem so scared of you?" Toby asked suddenly, his voice very weak-sounding. "He acted as though that wasn't the first time he saw you."
Sweeney looked up from the bottle in surprise before replying lowly, "He saw me commit a murder before."
Toby's eyes widened.
"He knew the secret." Sweeney added. "Saw me slittin' the throats of one of me customers." He snorted with amusement. "I, out of all honesty, thought it was the customer that was the "poor bugger", as Mrs. Love-" He stopped.
Toby lowered his head sadly.
"Don't look like that," Sweeney muttered irritably. "she lied to both of us."
"She was like the mother I never had." Toby said softly. "Despite the secrets she kept from me." Sweeney glared at him hard before turning away, taking another swig of the gin. He was mildly surprised; Toby wasn't the one drinking it up this time. They remained silent for a while again, until Toby spoke up once more,
"Don't we have bodies to burn?"
Sweeney shook his head absentmindedly, thinking back to his stay in the bakehouse. "..I took care of 'em." He replied, using that monotone voice of his again.
"And your...your wife?" Toby stammered.
Sweeney's grasp on the bottle tightened, and Toby cringed, waiting for another outburst. The barber relaxed a bit though, and he rose from where he had sat down across from the boy to stand in the middle of the room again. "I'm going to bury her." He replied, fighting to keep his voice gruff, to keep it from breaking.
Toby didn't seem to notice yet though, and he asked casually, "Where?"
"I don't know." Sweeney growled, turning on the boy. Toby shifted back a bit.
"Do you...do you want me to...to come, sir?" He asked hesitantly.
Sweeney's expression eased again, and he turned his back on Toby once more. "If you want to." He sighed, nearly breathing the words out. He suddenly remembered how exhausted he was. "We'll do it tomorrow morning." He decided. "Remember: if you're not on time, I'm not waitin' up. Got that, lad?"
Toby nodded glumly.
"Good." Sweeney sighed, shoving the bottle of gin back into Toby's hands. There was only a few swigs worth left, and Toby quickly finished it.
"Don't go looking for another." Sweeney said sternly. "You might choke again, and I won't be there to save you tonight."
Toby tilted his head to one side, but didn't reply. D'you care about me, or not?
Sweeney stressfully shook his head and walked back over to the side door, grabbing the knob and pulling it open. As he stepped out into the night, the cold, crisp air met him. It was refreshing, he had to admit. It seemed to get colder as he headed up the stairs to his tonsorial parlor, like so many times before. The last time he did this was...was when he thought everything was going to be okay for at least a night..before he knew that Mrs. Lovett had been lying to him.
As he reached the top, he glanced up at the sky. It was gray and cloudy as usual, but he could see the dim light of the sun beginning to poke through only slightly. He and Toby would get a few hours of sleep, at least. They'd have to start moving soon though.
Once he stepped into his shop, he stepped in the many puddles of blood splattered across the floor in order to get to his bed. The bed that he rarely used. Revenge was over with now. Sleep would hopefully come easier. Though he didn't even remove any clothing, as he was getting up in a little while anyway. Lying down was a great comfort to his back. He hadn't really rested into anything cushioning for a while, even if his bed wasn't the softest thing. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but feel a tad vulnerable just laying there. He was so used to having razor-at-the-ready.
Sleep claimed him before he could start thinking about this, however.
Meanwhile, Toby was dreaming. It was one of his nightmares. The 'cannibalistic pie maker/mad barber' nightmare again.
Never good...
He blinked open his eyes at the feel of a hand shaking his shoulder violently.
Dark, empty eyes met his.
"Mr. Todd!"
"Are you coming or not?"
The demon barber had wiped his face clean of all blood, and changed his shirt. All the bloodstains were gone, sure, but he still looked awfully intimidating. Toby jumped from his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Sweeney now stood in the doorway, his fists clenched. A freshly sharpened razor rested in his holster. A shovel was held down by his side. There was a new and improved wave of power radiating from him.
Toby gulped.
...Wait! Mr. Todd said he'd leave without me if I wasn't awake in time.
"Sir...?" He began questioningly.
Sweeney had already noted this, however. He turned away. "Come along, lad." He obviously wasn't in the mood to talk.
No change, no change. Toby shook his head, almost fondly, as he followed after the barber.
There was no fondness in Sweeney's solemn stare. He blankly headed down the bakehouse stairs like so many times already, with Toby trailing behind.
As they approached Lucy's body once more, Toby immediately felt guilty for kicking her; she was actually quite pretty. He could just tell that if she were still alive, she'd be very...very virtuous.
Sweeney let out a shaky breath before handing the shovel to Toby and lifting Lucy up, carrying her back to the stairs; she was very light. He didn't wait for Toby as he hurried back up the steps. He wanted to make this short and sweet. There'd be a bigger chance of him getting emotional if he lagged on this, and Toby would only make this harder.
"Pick up the pace, would you?" He muttered after a moment.
Toby sent him another glare of his own. "Where are we even going to bury her?" He asked.
Sweeney had been thinking about this, though he still had nothing.
"I was thinkin'," Toby began hesitantly. "You, Mum, and her late husband Albert..Lucy, too..you all used to live here together, right?"
"Yes." Sweeney replied sullenly.
"Why not bury Lucy right by the house, then?" Toby suggested.
Sweeney really wished he could, but...there were too many painful memories here.
Then, as if using good memories to fight off the painful ones, Sweeney had an idea. "Hyde Park." He murmured.
"What?" Toby questioned.
Sweeney cleared his throat awkwardly, resting his dark gaze on the floor. "Lucy and I used to take walks through Hyde Park." He muttered, refusing to meet the boy's eyes.
"Oh," Toby shrugged slowly. "that'd work."
"Glad you think so." Sweeney narrowed his eyes threateningly, causing the boy to draw back. Just as Toby recovered from fright and made his way for the door of the shop, Sweeney stopped him.
"We've got to cover the body with something." The barber reminded him.
"I'll, uh..I'll get a blanket." Toby decided uneasily, hurrying from the room and heading for the parlor. He was quite glad to get out of the demon's vision for a minute or so.
He then returned with a gloomy-looking grayish-brown one, and handed it to Mr. Todd.
"If we stick to the alleys," Sweeney murmured, gently pulling the blanket over Lucy's body. "we wont look as suspicious."
"Why can't we just tell the public a loved one has died?" Toby asked.
"No one announces such things on Fleet Street." Sweeney replied darkly. "Too many times, someone would claim to have lost a loved one when they really..."
"...killed them themselves?" Toby finished questioningly.
Sweeney nodded, looking rather glum now. "Let's go." He whispered, holding Lucy close to him as he and Toby made their way out of the shop.
Johanna made her way around the house, her dazzling blue eyes bright. Her ordeal with the murderous barber now long-forgotten. This house was absolutely perfect! She and Anthony had only just arrived in Plymouth a few hours ago, and had immediately gone looking for a house of their own.
"What d'you think of it, love?" Anthony came strolling in, and Johanna came over to work her way into his arms.
"It's perfect." She whispered in reply.
Anthony smiled, securely tightening his arms around her. "You sure? There's tons more to choose from."
"I think this is the one." Johanna insisted.
"...All right." Anthony nodded, lowering his head only slightly to kiss her on the lips. "Welcome home then, love."
Johanna beamed, pulling him closer. Though she didn't reply; she simply didn't need to.
"What're you doing?"
"It's stuck!"
Sweeney let out a quiet, agitated groan. Toby stood under an overhanging tree, the shovel held up in a mess of branches. He tried hard to pull it down, but to no avail.
"Let me." Sweeney growled, placing Lucy in the grass and grabbing hold of the handle that hung freely down. Toby watched intently, hoping so badly for the shovel to fall and hit the barber in the head for being so impatient. However, once it did get yanked free, Sweeney swiftly caught onto it with only one hand, something Toby knew he wouldn't have been able to do.
"Keep it low," Sweeney muttered, dropping the shovel back into the boy's arms. "we don't want to attract much attention anyway, remember?"
"Right, right..." Toby mumbled.
Sweeney glanced around unsurely now. In the distance, he spotted children playing, while not far behind adults were either watching contently, minding their own business, or mingling amongst one another. No one there was paying much attention to notice Sweeney and Toby. The spot they were in was isolated from the rest of the park, though next to a tree with a very thick trunk.
I'll be able to find it easily, and no one will notice me. Sweeney slowly nodded. This was the place they were looking for. "We're going to be burying her here." He decided aloud.
"You sure, sir?" Toby checked.
"If I wasn't sure, I would've said so by now." Sweeney pointed out in a dangerously low voice.
Toby flinched.
"Start digging." Sweeney ordered quietly.
Toby was getting ready to protest, to ask why the barber couldn't have done it himself...but then he remembered that he liked his throat the way it was. He stuck the shovel into the ground, gasping at how difficult it was already becoming. He always assumed the ground here was soft, judging by the lush, green grass. The dirt was much harder and rougher, however.
Sweeney leaned against the trunk, his arms rapped around Lucy's body that now limply leaned against him. He was staring at the shovel working into the ground with a watchful gaze, as if contemptuously noting every time Toby's grip would ease out of weariness, or stop completely. Toby worked matter-of-factly now, trying to look through the corners of his eyes. He was beginning to wonder whether or not Mr. Todd would even be able to part with the body, as he seemed to be holding it close with no intentions of letting go.
Suddenly, Toby felt the shovel effectively break through the soil. He glanced down eagerly, his eyes brightening.
I've made a dent!
He was exhausted already, and felt even worse as he was preparing to lift the shovel up once more to dig it deep in again. Just as his arms tensed up, he felt a shockingly cold hand rest on his shoulder.
Sweeney had stopped him from doing any more, sparing him the stress.
"I'll take over." The barber murmured.
Toby blinked up at him in surprise, but quickly handed the shovel over with a small nod. He then went to sit against the tree trunk, resting his tired muscles and watching Sweeney work. It felt creepy to sit next to a dead body though, but knowing that a supposedly kind and virtuous soul had once driven it, Toby felt slightly more at ease.
Sweeney didn't appear to tire of the digging, and he ended up doing the rest in silence. Toby wouldn't have minded starting up some sort of conversation, but thought better of it. The man was burying his dead wife, he at least deserved a bit of respect for this moment at least. Lucy deserved a moment of silence as well; her life was pretty much just as tragic, though not nearly as much agonizing waiting and suffering from physical to mental involved.
Sweeney placed Lucy beside the hole he had made and knelt down beside her, running a pale hand, mostly covered by a fingerless glove, through her now-dull yellow hair. A terrible sob was rising into his chest, but he forced it back down.
Hyde Park, Lucy. You and I. You do remember, don't you?
Yes, long before Johanna had been born, and not long after she had been. This had been their place...Benjamin's and Lucy's. The two had no idea that things would change for the worst in no time at all..so they continued onward like fools with no thought of savoring the moment..because they thought it'd last forever.
Toby watched Mr. Todd nervously, focusing his gaze on the barber's eyes: they were blank and still, not moving from the body once. They'd flash with occasional pain, and then anger, and then sadness again. They were allowing faint tears to form. Toby was shocked, truth be told. He knew for a fact that Sweeney would never let them fall though. Maybe when he was alone, if anything.
You got your revenge. Quit it, would you?
Sweeney straightened at this voice, and the tears vanished when he willed his icy glare to return. It wasn't for the sake of his own deadly reputation that he not cry. It was because he didn't want Toby to start panicking; how would he react to the fact that the one guy that was capable of protecting him turned out to be just as strong as any other in a split second where he was ever-so-slightly beginning to feel sorry for himself?
Sweeney leaned down and kissed Lucy on the forehead before picking her up and dropping her into the hole, gazing down at her with a wistful look in his eyes before grabbing the shovel and beginning to fill it in. Toby was surprised that the barber hadn't commanded him to do it.
After he was done, Sweeney stared at the ground once he dropped the shovel. There was a mound of dirt there now that they'd have to flatten down a bit. Toby hesitantly took to that, while Mr. Todd still kept his eyes pinned to the ground with an unreadable expression on his face. There was no anger or sadness there left in his eyes. Just...nothing.
Toby felt a pang of sympathy, taking a small step towards the demon barber. He reached out with a shaky hand to touch his arm, already anticipating a slap to the wrist or a razor to the throat.
But there was nothing.
Sweeney blinked at the feel of Toby's warm hand against his arm, silently debating on whether or not he should take offense. There was nothing offensive to point out about this, however.
"...I'm sorry." Toby murmured.
"What?" Sweeney glanced down at him suspiciously, seeming to have snapped out of his trance-like state. His arm tensed up a bit too.
"Your loss," Toby explained lamely. "I-I'm sorry for it."
Sweeney appeared to have found nothing wrong with this, so his gaze fell back down upon the ground.
Toby went on gently, "Everyone feels this way when they lose someone." He breathed out heavily. "Kind of..kind of how I felt when you threw Mum into the fire. And-"
He was cut off abruptly, and thrown against the tree trunk with a razor to his throat.
Oh, goody. He's back!
Sweeney glared at him fiercely, a replenished fire lit in his eyes. "Don't you dare bring up that liar while standing over my wife's body!" He snarled.
"I was just tryin' to relate." Toby glared right back at him. "You aren't the only one with a problem!"
Sweeney still held the furious glare, but didn't say anything. Just as Toby was beginning to think that Mr. Todd's grip on the razor was loosening, he let out a cry of pain; the razor had only lightly grazed his neck. Sweeney took a step back after doing this, then turned on his heels and stormed away. Toby dropped down into a sitting position against the tree trunk and lifted his hand to feel the small cut that was left there. He felt a few drops of blood, but he wiped them away vigorously, letting out a breath as he watched Sweeney walking off in the distance.
He's leaving without me.
Yes...it was times like these where he really missed his adoptive mother.
I'll hopefully have the next one up soon! Yeah, I don't have them nice and ready anymore. I actually need to write them as I go now. xD
