Mine
Mr. Todd doesn't like it when Mrs. Lovett flirts with a customer? Sweenett!!
Chapter 4: Patterns
Mr. Todd was not in her bed that night.
She sighed, tossing and turning as she wished for him in vain. She could hear him pacing restlessly above her head, the soft thumps on the boards seeming to keep time with the beating of her own heart. In the morning, she could tell he hadn't slept. He said and ate very little, looking drawn, and snappedat her if she dared to speak to him.
Toby, seeing how this distressed her, attempted to provide the distraction of his own sincere affections. Indeed, the boy fulfilled her long-dormant desire to have an object for her motherly love, but he could not keep her from worrying about the barber. It went on like this for a few days. He still serviced his customers; she still baked some of them into her disturbingly tasty pies. Their familiar pattern, business as usual.
Then the weather, which had warmed up for a few days, grew particularly cold again. Sweeney Todd could feel himself growing weak and unsteady from lack of sleep. Normally, he would at least doze off for a few hours as he brooded in his chair, but the last few nights he had lost of even that brief respite. And so, here he was, again.
He said nothing, merely stood in the doorway of her bedroom. She seemed to sense his presence and turned, staring at him. It was a moment before she found the nerve to speak.
"Well, lay your weary bones down then, why don't you? You know there's room enough for both of us." She hoped her voice sounded casual and careless, despite the slight quiver in it. Slowly, he did as she said, removing his outer clothing and pulling the heavy covers over himself. As he settled into the bed, he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding all day, and felt his body relax despite himself. Mrs. Lovett's hand caressed his back lightly. This time, he had neither the strength nor the desire to shake off her touch.
"My poor dear. Haven't slept in days, have you?" For an answer, and to her surprise, her turned and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed and buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling his neck as she dared to whisper, "I missed you."
"S'cold," was all he could mutter into her hair in response. He felt her smile against his skin, warming him. Why did she have such an affect on him? Why did closing off from her make him so desperately lonely? Why did all his faded memories of his old life seem such a cold comfort when she was wrapped in his arms? She was supposed to be his … not the other way around.
They did not have sex that night; both were too tired and worn from work and lack of sleep. Afterwards though, they fell into a pattern; he would pace for a few hours upstairs, and eventually find his way to her bed, where sleep would finally come. Of course, many times, sleep would come only after they had given in to their passions. Their physical enjoyment of the act did not fade with repetition; if anything, it seemed to grow, as they learned the lessons of each other's bodies, how to please and tease and satisfy each other's needs. Eventually, Todd gave up turning away from her afterwards, and most nights, he found himself holding her with a tenderness he otherwise kept in check.
On the surface, during the day, it seemed little had changed between them. Toby did noticed that his mum chatted a little less and smiled a little more, and that Mr. Todd did not snap and sulk quite so much. He was also a smarter and worldlier boy than either of them gave him credit for, and more than once had inadvertently seen the two of them emerge together from Mrs. Lovett's bedroom in the morning. He didn't exactly like Mr. Todd, but he was willing to put up with him for the sake of his dear mum and her happiness. Unbeknownst to Toby, Mr. Todd also harbored a similar sentiment regarding him.
As much as she enjoyed being with him, Mrs. Lovett knew the primary force that drove Sweeney Todd was revenge. Still, she dared to hope that after he had finally achieved his goal of killing the judge, he might be able to let go of the past and see a future with her. As time passed without this happening, however, she felt him drawing away again. His moods darkened, and he paced longer and longer, coming to her bed very late, or even not at all. When they made love, it was often frantic, a desperate effort on his part to feel something, anything, other than despair, anger, and that painful hunger for revenge.
She did not know how to help him. She was his business partner, his accomplice, his lover, the warm bed he came to on cold nights, but she did not know how to help him beyond that. As she did when she felt helpless, she chattered more, about nothing, about anything, about her ridiculous dreams of a bucolic life with him, him and her Toby, living like a proper family by the sea. The words sounded hollow and foolish even in her own ears, but she could not stop the nonsense from spilling out of her mouth. She wished he'd say something other than automatically and insincerely agreeing with her, even if it was only to tell her that she needed to shut up.
One morning, she brought him up some breakfast; even though she knew he'd been barely eating lately, she was determined not to have him waste away. He was staring out the window when she entered, his back to her, revealing nothing.
"Mr. T? Can I ask you a question?" Silence. For a moment, she thought he was going to ignore her. She almost started to leave the shop.
"What?"
She hesitated, and then blurted it out: "What did your Lucy look like?" More silence, but this time of a different sort. "Can't really remember, can you?"
"She had yellow hair," he said softly. Mrs. Lovett hesitated for a beat, and then moved closer to him.
"You gotta leave this all behind you now, love. She's gone." Yes, Lucy was gone. Even though Mrs. Lovett has warned her not to go the judge's house. And even though afterwards, she had begged her not harm herself, told her to think of poor little Johanna, of what would happen to her without a mother.
Mrs. Lovett had not found Lucy Barker as repugnant as people might have thought. She had even pitied her. But, to her way of thinking, his "perfect" Lucy had one fatal and unforgivable flaw: she could not see beyond her own pain to stay alive for someone who needed her, her own child.
"Life is for the alive, my dear," she continued softly. "We could have a life, us two. Maybe not like I dreamed. Maybe not like you remember. But we could get by."
He turned to look at her then. His eyes searched hers, seeking something to hold on to, something to believe in. His hand reached up to caress her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his fingers. Except for how they began, he rarely touched her like this outside of the bedroom. Now, as she opened her eyes again, she saw something in his … something almost like … hope?
"Mr. Todd! Mrs. Lovett, ma'am!" Anthony burst in, and the moment was gone. He burst in and drew her Mr. Todd back into the darkness, his revenge close, and once again, his only focus. His plan to lure the judge to the shop seemed quite clever, and quite simple. He'd have her Toby deliver the letter.
"Don't you think you should leave the boy alone?" He gave her one of his dark looks, and she knew better than to argue. She left him, wiping away a stray tear as she hurried down the stairs and called the lad as he bid. Well, what had she expected? She had been fooling herself to think that she might actually matter to him. The only thing that mattered to him was the bloody old judge, and getting his revenge.
For all his violent outbursts, her – no, not her – Mr. Todd followed a predictable pattern. The need for revenge wore him down, and he came to her for rest and pleasurable distraction. Once he had his fill of that, and his chance for revenge grew close again, he cast her off as easily as old cloak. That's all she was to him, nothing more.
And the worst of it was, her patterns were as predictable as his. For she took whatever he offered, be it cruelty or kindness, passion or possession, rage or indifference, and she loved him still.
A/N: Okay, I know this was a bit of a downer, but 'Sweeney Todd' isn't exactly a rainbows and sunshine, is it? It should eventually get a bit more uplifting. Also, wow – all those reviews! Gah. You like me. You really like me. *sniff sniff* Pardon, I'm having an attack of the warm fuzzies. TBC!