title Scream
author pinkeop
summary From now on when I think of you, I scream. -Companion Fic to Girl Anachronism- -AU-
authors note Alright... This chapter is the intense plot chapter that Ravin' Raven has been SOOOO supportive and helpful with. And I apologise if it's not up to parr- you see, my best friend was strangled to death two nights ago and I just wanted to get this up because... well, because it's an easy way to escape from reality for a while, you know?
So, here... it's a bit confusing, but here this is how the chapter kinna goes-
Ana's POV in present.
Ana' POV remembering back a week ago.
Ana's POV in present.
Man's POV remember back a week ago.
Ana's POV in present.
I think...
I tried to model this chapter's format like a fun chapter I read in String of Pearls... but probably failed.
Enjoy?
Not a lot of love,
Pink Elephants on Parade.
--
chapter ten
So if you, you peel away the skin
You'll find the strong survive they can't always win
I'll stand up, to the shallow end
You won't see me drown when I sink or swim
"You've been so jittery!" Johanna pointed out as the two women sat in the pie shop as Ana cleaned up the last of the dishes. She looked at Johanna with narrowed eyes and pressed together brows. Their respective lovers were both upstairs, but whatever they were speaking of was a mystery. Ana sighed heavily and paused in her cleaning, rubbing her hand over her stomach. Johanna was right- she was jittery. Nervous, even. A week prior, Ana had a confrontation that sent that following weeks events in motion.
It had been the following Monday than when we last joined the barber and his wife. Ana had been cleaning up after a long day, her and Malachai laughing together in the court of the shop and Sweeney Todd had finally left their overly joyous presence, now down in the bakehouse doing some little diddy Ana had requested of him. But, mostly down there because he wouldn't have to stand their loud laughter and giggling. The two of them scrubbed the tables side by side, talking of all things to be talked about.
"Me mum nearly boxed me sister when she found 'er wiv--" Malachai was cut off suddenly as he glanced over to her with a wide grin- but that grin faded as his eyes focused passed her. Ana turned to see what he was looking at, and noticed a nicely dressed man crossing Fleet Street and stepping towards the gate around the court. He wore a tall hat and a jacket made of fur. Ana stood straighter and placed her hands on her hips.
"Hello, there..." she mumured to herself. "What's he doing here?"
It was not a man she recognized as a customer, but noticed that he had been up and down Fleet Street several times. But he never would stop in, not even for a shave. Ana placed her hands on her hips and glanced at Malachai, raising her brows. As if he understood her unspoken words, Malachai set down his rag and jogged up to the gate, leaning against the rungs.
"Sorry, sir," Malachai said as the man came to a stop. "But we're closed- come again to-morrow."
But the man didn't look at Malachai- he looked around him, to Ana, who had gone back to cleaning the table idly. "Excuse me," the man said, an lush accent donning his vocals. "Mistress Todd, is it?" he asked.
Ana looked up and exchanged a glance with Malachai. Slowly, she made her way over to the gate. "I'm Mrs. Todd, yes?" she asked softly. "What can I do for you, sir? I'm afraid that we haven't any pies at the moment."
The man's face was pale when he looked at her, and his eyes were a sharp green. Under his hat she could see his brown hair falling over his face. He was charmingly handsome and young. But he did not smile at her- no, he looked down at her with a pulled back lip, a grimmace if you will, and he looked past her, up to Sweeney Todd's shop. Ana looked over her shoulder as well- he had yet to come up from the bakehouse.
"I am coming to you Mrs. Todd to ask of a favor," he spoke with an air far greater than her own and leaned on his cane quite lackidasically. "Your husband is a barber, yes?"
Ana sighed heavily. "If you're looking for a shave, you'll have to come back in the morning. Mr. Todd is down in the bake house for me at the moment."
The man slammed his cane down against the grate of the gates and Malachai and Ana both jumped. "Please, m'am," he said slowly. "You'll do your part by answering my questions and nothing more."
Malachai touched her back when he saw her hands clench the grates of the gate. Her jaw tightened and she raised her chin. "Of course, sir," she snarled.
The man's smirk was disgusting to her. "Very good," he murmured. "It was during May that my brother called upon Mr. Todd. It was afternoon, and he was to meet me for lunch afterwards at mine. He did not show up and I have reason to believe that he did not tread farther than the threshold of Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parlor."
Ana felt her face grow pale, but forcing herself to keep her voice, she cleared her throat, "Now, sir... You can't expect me to remember everyone who grace my husband's door," she said.
The man sneered. "I do believe, at the present time, he was not your husband, nor were you the owner of this... fine establishment." His lips twitched.
Ana smiled sickeningly, reaching behind her to grasp Malachai's hand tightly. She could feel the body squeeze it back. "Now, sir..." she said softly. "As I said- Mr. Todd has a lot of customers every day. He's hardly familiar with all of them."
His cane snapped sharply against the gate, and Ana took a large step back. "Do not lie to me, woman," the man snarled.
"Sir," Ana snapped. "You will be sorry if you don't take you and your half baked ideas off my stoop--"
"Ana!"
Malachai jumped away from Ana and let go of her hand, and the woman turned to peer at who had called her voice- Sweeney Todd made his way across the court. He seemed at ease, unawares of the threat this man posed. "Wot 'ave I told yeh 'bout talkin' to strangers?" he asked, with an almost teasing air at him. A pity he was in such a good mood about to be thrust into such an uncomfortable situation. "Who is this?"
Ana glared at her husband before turning the stare onto the man. "I don't know," she said growlingly. "He hasn't told me his name."
She relaxed as the barber placed his hand around her shoulder, pulling her closer.
"Pardon," the man purred. "You wife was just giving me information that I seeked about the disappearance of my brother... She has been quite... helpful."
"Of course, sir," Mr. Todd said, his voice suddenly very flat.
"Until we meet again..." the man said, tipping his hat.
After that, Ana had noticed the man across the street, every day, watching her establishment, but more importantly watching as men went up and down from Sweeney Todd's palor. It gave Ana chills to think about as she worked. She even spent a good twenty minutes down in the bakehouse before Mr. Todd dragged her back up, scolding her about going down there in the first place, what with the state she was in. She wasn't able to tell Mr. Todd how unnerved that man made her. She figured he didn't even notice his presence every day for a week across the street.
--
Ana sighed, dragging herself back to the present as she looked up at Johanna, who sat with her chin in her hand. "I know," she answered finally, shaking her head. "It's just this man, you see... Been standing outside my shop for a whole week. All he does is stare. He comes from the moment I open to the moment I close, most times later until all the lights are out." She shook her head again and looked past Johanna and her face paled.
"There he is," she said quietly, nodding towards the window. Johanna turned around on her stool and peered out the dingy window. Ana had been right- as was per usual for this time of the morning, the fair dressed man stood on the other side of Fleet Street with his pale skin, green eyes, tall hat and fur coat.
"He looks about as friendly as a drunk," Johanna said, wrinkling her nose.
Ana found it easy to laugh- at least at the moment. The day carried on as normal as could be- however, right before dinner time, as Ana sat with Malachai inside the shop, she noticed that across the street the man had disappeared for a short amount of time. As everyone came rushing in to get a nice hot pie before they were all sold out, around seven pm, he returned, but this time was bold enough hover by the gate, periodically checking his waist coat watch.
It was the peak of the dinner rush- Ana felt tired and her belly was getting far to heavy for her to speed around the court. But she worked past it, taking any help Mr. Todd would give her greatly, and at once put him to work whenever he hadn't a customer. She was just turning to pour some ale for a pleasent, plump woman when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Thinking it was perhaps her husband, the baker turned with a smile to brighten the room- but it was just two very offically dressed men- officers, she suspected by the badges on their chests. With wide eyes, her smile faltered.
"Hello, gents," she said politely. "What can I do for you today, sirs?"
"M'am," the taller one said. "If you would, please, step this way with us?" With a sharp grip on her arm, Ana was pulled rather harshly towards the gate- but not outside it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malachai give a startled glance in her direction. People were beginning to stare. Bless his heart, Malachai took off across the court and flung himself up the steps to Sweeney Todd's shop. At least someone was about to come to her rescue.
Ana turned her eyes towards the man in the fur coat, on the other side of the gate, safely out of her reach. "This is her- the mad one!" he explained in a loud voice that echoed over the court- over all of Fleet Street. Ana's brows drew together- she didn't understand. "Mad as any of the lunatics in Bedlam, I should say!"
"Under what proof do you accuse her?" said the second officer, more portly than the one who gripped her arm. She recognized him as the man whom she had inturrupted in the middle of a shave- the little cut on his cheek was scabbed over, almost completely healed. Her stomach dropped to her toes. The man in the fur coat wrinkled his nose and raised his chin.
"I have spoken to her- and heard her speak, and whatever comes out of her mouth can't be called speaking! She raves!" The man snarled, slamming his cane down on the gate. Ana jumped at the sudden sound and let a cry escape her throat. Fear began to grip her all around- surely this wasn't happening, not to her, not now! All she had done was argue with this man. Gotten fed up with him- annoyed. She hadn't even laid a finger on him, but he deserved a good wack in the head!
"See, there? See how she screeches?" the man objected. "Mad as they come! And look there- at her stomach? Bloated with child and yet the priest that married her tells me she's been wed not more than a month!"
Ana could feel the tall officer clench her arm. "You're insane!" she snarled, taking a step towards the gate- but was promptly pulled back. She swung one fist out and caught the officer in the gut- he grunted and doubled. Roughly- enough for her to fear for the child in her stomach -the portly man grabbed her by both arms and detained her flailing limbs. But that did not stop her from shouting obscenities at the man behind the gate- screaming at him. Telling him to tell the truth. But he only smiled at her in a sick, disgusting way.
But in order that we may in its proper form relate how it was that the man in the fur coat had the daring to publicly accuse Analise Todd, and how it was he seemed to be getting his way, of madness, we must devote to him an explaination that will plead his extenuation.
--
His name was James Tiberius York, son of the high-court justice, and his mission for five months was to find what had happened to his closest brother, Jason York, on the summer of 1846. He'd disappeared May 20th, the day which the two brothers had made plans to meet for dinner time. James had sat at the resturant until closing time- he could only thus come to the conclusion that something had happened to his brother to prevent him from meeting him for dinner.
A week passed with no word and that was when James began his investigation. He wasn't a detective of any sorts but he did what he could. He was charasmatic, James was- and he knew this and often used it to his own advantage. With a soft smile and those green eyes, James easily got information out of anyone he talked to. But nothing helped. He got street names from Bell Yard to Fleet Street. Nothing anyone said calmed the nightmares that ailed James' mind about the disappearance of his dear brother. The only other person in the world that knew him as well as he knew himself, and most certainly vice versa.
He was all he had left.
It was a nippy October day, as James was strolling from Bell Yard onto Fleet Street, that something hit him quite hard, so hard that he had to stop and take several deep breaths. Mistress Lovett on Fleet Street has opened the room above her as a shop for a barber, Jason York had said that warm May day. Perhaps I shall go take a look.
With this information as his only lead, James had promptly found his way to Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Shop, a place he'd never visited before, finding it not as lavish and fit for a man of his standing. When he arrived across the street, however, it looked to be completely empty and two young people- a pregnant woman and a boy a bit younger. Stopping a bystander on the street with a snap of his cane, he leaned to the messanger boy he'd accosted.
"Can you tell me the name of the barber who lives above this fine establishment?" he asked. The boy looked up with wide eyes before turning to look across Fleet Street.
"Easy shaving for a penny, good you'll get as any- S'what it says above the door, sir. Tis true, I should say, Mr. Sweeney Todd is the best barber this side 'o London, sir. An' there's 'is pregnant missus, cleanin' the court. She's a real lady- gave me a free pie once cos she said she hope 'er son looked like me!" The boy squeaked with delight. James snorted and pushed him along, no longer caring for what he said. That's all he needed- with an arrogant air that he so deserved to strut, the man started towards the gate of the court.
The young both with whom Mrs. Todd worked met him at the gate.
"Sorry, sir," the boy said. "But we're closed. Come again to-morrow."
James was not interested in him, not in the least. His attention rested past him- on the young red head who peered at him with the same curiousity. Raising a brow, he placed a hand on the grate of the gate. "Excuse me," he called. "Mistress Todd, is it?"
Mrs. Todd dropped her wash rag and started towards the gate. He noted the way her hands held her stomach very tenderly, rubbing it lightly, as if soothing the child inside. James raised his chin.
"I'm Mrs. Todd, yes," she said- her voice was light and soft, but it was a weird quickness about it. As if she had to reign herself in from speaking too much. "What can I do for you, sir? I'm afraid we don't have any pies at the moment..."
James looked past her, towards the barber shop. Candle light flickered against the windows- the dingy dark windows. He had reason to believe that his brother had indeed stopped there at Mr. Todd's parlor- and he had not traveled any farther. But to prove it... how? And then, once he had gathered such proof, what would he do? It had been months. If there were any evidence at all, there was none left now. And to get to it would be extremely difficult.
"I am coming to you Mrs. Todd to ask of a favor," he spoke with an air far greater than her own and leaned on his cane quite lackidasically. "Your husband is a barber, yes?"
The woman nearly cut him off, shaking her head, her red hair falling down from it's messy up do. Jame's felt his annoyance raise slowly. "If you're looking for a shave, you'll have to come back in the morning. Mr. Todd is down in the bake house for me at the moment." Mrs. Todd said boistriously.
How dare she just talk over him like that? Did she not know her place? James slammed his cane against the gate and reveled in the way she jumped in surprise, her hands holding her stomach tighter. Child of the devil, probably. James wrinkled his nose. He leaned forward slightly. "Please, m'am," he drawled. "You'll do your part by answering my questions and nothing more."
Mrs. Todd didn't look pleased, but he was satisfied when she grit her teeth and answered him with a stotic, "Of course, sir."
"Very good," he murmured. "It was during May that my brother called upon Mr. Todd. It was afternoon, and he was to meet me for lunch afterwards at mine. He did not show up and I have reason to believe that he did not tread farther than the threshold of Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parlor."
Mrs. Todd looked very uncomfortable, and that only gave him further reason to believe what he did. Jason York had not been seen farther than Sweeney Todd's parlor, James decided, and the way the pregnant mistress tugged nervously at the hem of her apron was further proof. , "Now, sir... You can't expect me to remember everyone who grace my husband's door," she said, her voice breaking.
James leaned forward, hoping that intimidation would scare the truth from her. If he made out like he knew all he secrets, perhaps she would relent and repent and he would be able to send she and her husband off to the gallows like they deserved- or perhaps a worse existance tucked away in some deserted corner of Fogg's asylum where the screaming lunatics would surely turn them mad, if they weren't already!
"I do believe, at the present time, he was not your husband, nor were you the owner of this... fine establishment." James said in a low voice, as if it were a secret.
The smile Mrs. Todd gave him enraged him and his hand tighened around his cane. He'd like to bludgeon her until he told the truth he seeked. She tilted her head, in an almost sympathetic way, but it was condescending- and who was she, a simple baker with a demon's child, to be condescending to him?
"Now, sir..." she said, still with that smile on her face, the one that made him want to hurt her badly- because she knew and he knew she knew and she still kept that smile. "As I said- Mr. Todd has a lot of customers every day. He's hardly familiar with all of them."
Raising his cane, Jame's snapped it against the gate at the last minute, figuring it would not help his case later if he beat her to death. He felt satisfied when she jumped back and uttered a small cry of surprise. "Do not lie to me, woman!" James snarled.
"Sir," the pregnant misses cut off, "You will be sorry if you don't take you and your half baked ideas off my stoop--"
James had his rebuke on the tip of his tounge, but the sound of a man calling what he could only assume was Mrs. Todd's name stopped him, and he raised his head to gave upon what could hardly be called a gentleman. The barber himself had pale skin, like a ghost, and a mismatched mane of black hair, a streak of white winding out from his temple. He looked as if he'd never smile a day in his life, save for only in a crazy fit. He towered over his misses and the young boy who had curiously lept away from her the moment her name had been called.
"Wot 'ave I told yeh about talkin' t'strangers?" the barber- Sweeney Todd -said with an air about him that was, to James' surprise, not entirely seriously. "Who is this?"
Mrs. Todd looked back at her husband and then to James when the man came up behind her and rested his hand on the back of her throat. James found this a curious way of holding someone. "I don't know," Mrs. Todd snarled. "He hasn't told me his name."
Thinking it easier to deal with the woman alone than now with his husband to fight her battle for her, James straightened up and took his cane of the gate and stopped it on the cobble stone under his feet. ""Pardon," James' related smoothly. "You wife was just giving me information that I seeked about the disappearance of my brother... She has been quite... helpful."
"Of course, sir," Sweeney Todd said with a cold tone. James forced a smile onto his face and with the tips of his fingers, tipped his hat.
"Until we meet again..."
Oh, and soon! How soon they would meet again! The moment James took his leave, he returned home and could not sleep he was so restless. It was during the middle of that night that James pondered and planned- like a perfect machine he planned. When he had looked upon Mrs. Todd, she had been curvy and healthily built with child. A body he could not deny that would excite any man immensely. But she was small, and frail, and he could tell by her wrists, which had been knobby and boney. She would not have the physical or mental strength to...
To cause a disappearance.
Besides, anyone who had entered Mrs.Lovett's meat pie shop had been found fine. It was his brother, who had obviously gone up for a shave, who had not tread any further alive- if at all. But what would cause Sweeney Todd to kill? An innocent man, one what had done him no harm?
James tossed and turned all night, thinking on this, but gave up after several failed attempts to figure out why the world had done him wrong.
He would never find proof of this unless he stood outside and watched every day and every night. But then when would even he find time to slumber? And that might not even work.
A vendetta formed over the night for Sweeney Todd, and James suddenly wanted him dead. Or locked away, or hung, his neck snapped as James took a young lady to watch the excitement of a public necking. Of coures, that would never happen, not without proof. His mind plotted and formulated- what else could he do to make Sweeney Todd just as miserable as he had made him in the months that he had taken away his brother's life- for now he was most, most certain that it had been Sweeney Todd who had done the deed, and some how gotten the body- or bodies? How high was this count? -safely away in the dead of night.
But how was he to do this? James wondered. Through his window, that night, he heard a cackle- a high pitched insane cackle and he shoved it off as a half-crazed begger in the streets. It seemed like London's streets were turning into her own Bedlam--
Bedlam.
James sat up that night with a crazy if excitement. He would lock them both away in Bedlam! No, not both... her. Mrs. Todd. He would take away, what seemed, to be the last thing Sweeney Todd would touch, as he remembered how the man had placed his hand so unconventionally on the back of her neck, as if he could menuver or man handle her better that way. Keep her close to his side should he desire so she never got too far from him. She was all he had left, James mused, and he would take her away and force her into an asylum so terrible that they would find her dead in her bed the very next morning! Ha! Ha! Ha!
James began his plan. Every day he would wait and stand outside Mrs. Lovett's pie shop and, while he would switch his attention to the barber shop every time someone went up for a shave, he mostly watched it, picking out odd habits he had never seen before. Every bystander he could stop he did and spoke to them about Mrs. Todd.
"Oh, odd one she is," a young girl had said. "Never seen'a woman much like 'er, if I 'ave to say so."
"I heard she was pregnant out of wedlock," a young man with sickly pale skin had said. "But, she's married now, you can ask Father Collins, so I guess..." but he had trailed off when his friends called him from down Fleet Street at the corner of Park-Lane.
"Mr. Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Analise Todd?" Farther Collins had seemed very eager to share all he knew. "Married a month ago- they seem to wish forgiveness for their sins, what with Mrs. Todd being so very pregnant, I have spared the rod. Yet I don't believe their child can be saved..." he had shook his head solmnly.
"She talks all the time!" an old biddy had related. "She even speaks to herself, or though I suppose she's speaking to that illegitimate child of hers..." at this point the woman had sneered in the direction of Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop. "But you can't really call what she does talking- tis more like the raving of all the lunatics in Bedlam! If you are looking to put her there, sir, then I greatly support your decision to do so!"
That was all he needed, and after a week, James Tiberius York strod across Fleet Street with a purpose and a plan. Analise Todd would not see the light of day without the marr of cell bars ever again.
--
And now, reader, that we have given James- a very vengeful, evil man as it can be assumed -his time for explaination, this leads us back to the present situation at hand, which would be our dear Ana being accosted by the police on either of her arms, as she and the man in the fur coat had stare donw to end all stare downs.
"Wot's this?!" Sweeney Todd's voice gave instant comfor to the pregnant woman and Ana twisted in her binds to peer at her husband, who charged through the crowd that had formed. "Unhand her," his voice was so low, so demonic, that Ana feared slit throats would be the fate of all present.
"Sorry, Mr. Todd," the man- known to you, secretly, reader, as James -said. "But I'm afraid they can't do that- she struck an officer, with illegitimate child and I believe, it's easy to tell, your wife is mad as all the lunatics running in the streets!"
"Mad?!" Sweeney Todd shouted.
"Mad!" James snapped and with an air he pushed open the gate. "Take her, gents," he said smoothly. "The coach is just around the corner."
Ana's eyes widened- she suddenly felt like she knew her fate. But this couldn't be happening- no! This was just a bad dream. She felt a small bit of hope when both officers exchanged glances and looked down at her- but then they began towing her away and Ana screamed a scream to make anyone not used to such lunatic sounds draw back in terror. "No!" she screamed. "I'm not mad!"
"Ana!" Sweeney Todd screamed, throwing himself against the gate- for he knew he could do no more at the look in his eyes when Ana glanced back at him tore her apart. Tears leaked to her eyes and Ana thrashed and kicked and screamed and gave the officers a good fight. But they were strong than her and easily over powered her.
"I knew she was mad," the portly officer grunted. "Running up to that shop all wild and twitching- I knew this one was mad the moment I saw 'er!"
"Todd!" Ana screamed, twisting back to peer at her husband's face. He was standing outside the gate, looking helpless.
"They shall all die, Ana!" He shouted after her. "For dead men tell no lies! Nor women, nor children! And they sall all die, and after which, I think, there shall be a serious fire in Fleet Street!"
It was the last words for comfort she heard before the coach door was closed on her and her fate was sealed.