Return Of The Demon
A/N: More sining in this one! Wo0t! Go musicals! By the way, because Christmas is tomorrow, I highly doubt I'll be on...sorry. So consider this your early Holiday gift! Love ya!
Chapter Four
"Here you go Mr. Todd," Geoffrey sat Sweeney in the guest room, easing the man gently onto the bed, "I do hope you'll find everything alright here while you get better." Sweeney looked at the man, arching a brow. From the looks of it there was already some light coming back to the man's eyes. Still no color to the cheeks, although this did not surprise him. Sweeney seemed pale by nature.
"Did you get Mr. Todd in bed Mr. Pickard?" Janice came into the room, her dress swishing. In her arms she held a bundle of clothes that looked rather old.
"Yes Missus Crawly." Geoffrey replied. He took a step back, as Janice shooed him slightly with her hand.
"Start the fire Mr. Pickard, if you please. We don't want our Mr. Todd getting a worse chill than he has, now do we?" Janice laughed a bit, placing the clothes down on the bedspread. She sat down beside him, seeming to produce a bowl of water and a sponge from thin air.
"And when you're done with that, please go fetch me some antibiotics." Janice said, her eyes never leaving Sweeney's gaze. Sweeney instantly thought she was talking to him. He made a move to get up, hesitant. She gave him an incredulous look that melted into a silly smile.
"Oh no, not you dear! Mr. Pickard," Janice informed, grabbing Sweeney's wrist and sat him on the bed once more. Sweeney's lips parted in a silent 'O' of realization.
"Come now, let's clean you up. When we're done, you'll change into these clothes." Janice said, pointing to the stack of clothes. Sweeney eyed them without a word, and said nothing as Janice gripped his chin in her palm, and twisted his head to one side. She made a "tsk, tsk" noise.
"Gotta clean you up." she said sweetly. Soaking the sponge, she squeezed it, excess water slapping around noisily from its body, much like a dog lapping at a water bowl. It was unusually cold water. Or at least that was the conclusion Sweeney came to. Then again, his senses were still realigning themselves. So yes, perhaps it was just him.
The sponge dabbed at his cheek, smearing the dark liquid down his face. She wiped it away hurriedly with a towel and easily continued. Sweeney made a face every now and then as the sponge traced over a particularly more tender area. Janice would offer a soft apology, Sweeney would say nothing, as if nothing had happened to begin with, and so went the cycle.
Geoffrey watched them, his face blank. He waited by the fire, listening to the crackle of the fresh logs. Then, almost reluctantly, he left Janice with Sweeney. He was not a brilliant man, but he was not stupid...and he could feel Sweeney's eyes watch his every movement until he disappeared through the door.
"So tell me about yourself Mr. Todd." Janice tried for conversation as Geoffrey left the room. His incessant watching was quite bothersome. Sweeney frowned at the floor.
"Not much to say." He replied.
"Well surely you have some kind of reason to be out in that storm?"
"None that I can particularly recall, no."
"Oh how dreary." Janice sighed.
"Dreary," Sweeney chuckled, smirking, "I suppose you could say that." The room lapsed into silence again, the only sounds were of the sponge being squeezed and dipped. Several times Janice opened her mouth to ask a question, only to have her jaw clamp shut with an audible snap.
It took several tries to speak for Janice to finally come to terms that her inability was not that she was prodding his privacy and being disrespectful, but rather because she was scared. But she was a proud woman, with a proud heritage, and she was not going to brought down by some kind of childish fear.
So she began to hum. A sweet tune, the kind of melody that would accompany the arrival of spring, or the flowers blossoming on a fine summer's day. Sweeney made no objection to it, and so she kept at it, adding in words every now and then.
"T'was a fine day, back when I was young,
"T'was a fine day, with songs that should be sung.
"The sun was high, and the moon was sleeping,
"People sang, no longer weeping.
"T'was a very pretty day, back when I was young,
"What seemed so long ago, with songs that should be sung.
"T'was a fine day-" Janice halted as Sweeney suddenly stepped in. His voice was darker, far more haunting than hers. It sang with such a sweet sorrow that she had never quite heard before.
"Will be a fine day, when the world stops abusing.
"Will be a fine day, when others stop their using.
"Will be a fine day, when I know just what I am.
"It will be a fine day, to find that I am damned." Janice threw the sponge into the bowl, it making a wet plopping sound as it hit the water. She stood, carrying the bowl to the nightstand. As soon as she no longer held it, she turned to him, hands on her hips. Opening her mouth, she sang to him once more, a defiant gleam in her eyes,
"Tis a fine day, with horrid people even here.
"It is something we must live through, no matter what we fear.
"Tis a fine day, if I might add,
"Nothing's ever perfect, so don't make me laugh." Sweeney glared at her, his face darkening considerably. Although his weight could not hold him, he leaned towards her from the bed.
"What fine day, may I ask, do you see?
"For now I must say, that your sight is quite weak.
"Fine day, you say, all dreamy and quite sweet,
"You are mistaken, for this foul rot reeks.
"I wish I had your eyes, to see such a day,
"And now, as you stand there, what have you to say?" Sweeney growled melodiously. Janice stood there, her lips now a tight line. After a moment she sighed, raising her arms in defeat and slapping them down to her sides.
"Nothing I suppose." The song was gone from her voice. It was now rigid and slightly angered. Sweeney said nothing, dropping his eyes to the floor.
"Forgive me, Janice," he apologized, "My mind is out of sorts lately. I fear I do not know much of what is happening to me." Janice stared at him for a long while and then heaved another sigh.
"One can expect so," She reassured, not daring to step closer, "Come, time for bed. You must be exhausted," She rolled her hand in a small gesture towards the bed, "Dress yourself and get settled. I'll return to make sure you're alright." She gave a swift curtsy, and left, he heels clicking rapidly. Sweeney looked down at his hands.
"Will be a fine day, when the world stops abusing.
"Will fine day, when others stop their using.
"Will be a fine day, when I know just what I am.
"It will be a fine day, to find that I am damned." He repeated softly. He reached for the clothes, feeling them within his grasp. They were old. Not ancient, just unworn for a long time. Using the edge of the bed for balance, Sweeney lifted himself to his feet. He stripped leisurely, easing his dirtied and wet clothes off his body. They slipped to the floor in silence.
Sweeney stood in the middle of the room, naked, the clothes in his hands. There was a mirror that reflected him above the fire place. He did not dare look, not yet. He was too...off guard to be looking at his form right now. He slid the clothes on, his legs shaking as he sat back down. The exhaustion was once more darkening his vision. He was tired.
And as he slowly slipped away, Sweeney couldn't help but smile at the orange and red patterns the fire created across the walls...like the crimson designs of freshly spilt blood.
Happy Holidays! Thanks so much for all your reviews!