If any of you have noticed, I sort have changed my description. Yes, it now says that this story is a shocking Sweenett story as well as a Sweeney Lucy couple. Never fear my dear Swucy fans! I particularly favor Swucy, but there are so many out there who love a good Sweeney Lovett pairing. So I have devised a way to please everyone. You'll just have to see… Please leave a review and tell me what you think about this little plot line, your opinions are what keep me going. Bear with me, for all will reveal itself in time. *Squeals* My Swucy and Sweenett fans to you I say ENJOY!
Screams…blood…anguish.
He bolts upright in his cell, arms outstretched to the heavens, begging for the merciful end to grant him tranquility. "Just end me!" He screams to the Lord, as men heave in corners and weep of their lost chance of living.
He truly yearns for the release. The release that would grant him eternal peace, where he could watch from above, his two golden angels live their life and grant the world a radiant piece of light that could only be cast from the purity of their deeds.
Death had embraced any man who no longer contained strength, and mocked any man who endured suffering.
Clinging to the icy bars, he screams for mercy, for condemnation, for salvation between the nauseating walls of this torment. Clawing at his face, he bangs his head against stone, he tears at the rags he wears, and he weeps blood.
In only a few months, he had lost hope. In a matter of years, he had lost his naiveté. In fifteen years, he had lost himself. And when he returned home, he had lost his mind.
No one was going home, and that truth flowed through the mind of every hopeless man as evenly as the crimson liquid that dripped over their ravaged faces…that dried over his murderous hands!
Tearing his subconscious away from the horrible nightmare, Sweeney Todd woke with a pained moan. His dreams, the vivid quality…how they depicted the agony so clearly!
Groaning as he sat straight in his chair, Todd's eyes stung from sweat as it slid down the side of his face. Rubbing the wet spot with the flat of his calloused palm, Sweeney rolled out his sore muscles and concentrated on gaining his proper breathing. He gripped the handles of the barber's chair with fingers that whitened from the intense pressure. The night was filled with clouds. There was not a hint of the moon, his only consolation on these treacherous nights.
Jumping at the sound of an opening door, Sweeney nearly fell out of his chair when he saw that Johanna had entered his shop. She stood in a pale nightgown that had been slightly large on her, resulting in long sleeves and a trail at the bottom of the gown. Her hair framed her face with ghostly golden locks, blowing in a small breeze as she stepped towards her father and kneeled in front of him, not even bothering to close the door behind her.
"I heard you tossing in your sleep, screaming horrible things. I believe I have learned more about you as you slept than when you were awake," she declared, though she did not offer her usual customary smile.
He did not dare respond, for his breath was still short and quick, near hyperventilation.
Without holding the reluctance that her mother had usually shown, Johanna snatched her father's face between her hands and began to soothe him with words of benevolence and assurance.
"It's alright, father," she whispered to him. "You are home."
He nodded his head, but her words were nothing but a small ringing in the back of his screaming mind. Every single part of his body was screeching in protest as the memories raged on in his psyche, the muted bawls of pain as well as the appalling breaths of dying males.
Sweeney Todd's eyes took on different sights. He did not see the glorious girl before him, no. Instead, his mind took on images of his past, as if their only intent was to torture him with the haunting years that he had been forced to endure for the crime of being loved.
His eyes then turned to his Johanna, anger suddenly bursting from his very soul. She had no right being with him when all he was moaning about was death and suffering! Was she trying to hurt him? "I do not want your comfort! Get out!"
Johanna stood straight, gripping onto the thread of understanding that she held for her father. "Father," she began. "I understand you are up…"
Without thinking upon his actions, Sweeney gripped her shoulders and directed her towards the door. "I said get out!" he repeated. The full anger in his heart was now being unleashed.
Struggling, she slipped out of his grip and shoved her father backwards until he stumbled away from her. As he advanced towards her in a blind fury, Johanna let out a cry of agony, bringing him back to stunned reality. "IS THIS WHAT YOU HAVE COME TO?" she demanded.
He stopped dead in his tracks, aware of what he was doing only when he was too late.
"If I wished to be manhandled I would have asked you to bring forth Turpin from the dead so that I could live with him once more!"
"I was not thinking…"He begged. What had he done? Had he forgotten that this was his daughter in his moment of panic?
At this point, Lucy had emerged from her room and stood in the doorway, unnoticed by the father and daughter.
Johanna then clasped her father's face between her hands once more, commanding that he look into her eyes. "What did they do to you, father?"
"I…I cannot tell you."
"Please," she cried. "I need to know."
He swayed under her touch, alarming her to a point where she insisted that he sit down. Once he had seated, Johanna requested that he tell her of his experience in Botany Bay, only to be rejected once more.
Avoiding her gaze so that he stared at nothing but the floor, he began. "The things they did to me there…I could never tell you. Most of the things that they did were so inhuman, so cruel; they would never be imagined by a person who still held onto their sanity. They took everything that meant anything to the men." He sighed under a great stress as Johanna stroked his cheekbone.
"They took everything from me."
Displaying a sorrowful batch of tears, Johanna continued to caress her father's face until her touch receded into his wild hairline. Then, with a gentle force, she removed an object from his hand that he did not realize he was holding. His razor.
"Oh, father, you have cut yourself."
He sent his hand an uncaring glance, realizing that he indeed had been gripping the razor in his sleep, and in his woe, he had sliced open his forearm. The cut was a superficial one, none of his muscles or tendons was slit, but the long gash up his arm was now bleeding at a vigorous pace. And still, he felt no pain. It would take a plenty good deal more than a blade to hurt him.
In fear, Johanna leapt to her feet and bounded out the door, and passed her mother, who had since been detected by the girl, mentioning that she was going to get bandages.
"Was it a nightmare?" Lucy inquired her figure still in the doorway.
His mind clicked when he realized Lucy was in the room as well, but he did not look up at her just yet. It would not have mattered; the gruesome images still haunted him. "Yes…nothing more."
"Tell me."
"I could never. The memories are too despicable…too appalling."
Shaking her head as she moved towards him, she continued, "You know, you haven't been sleeping at all."
"It…it is because I did not sleep at prison. Sort of worked into me schedule, I assume."
Sighing in displeasure, she came up to his chair, laying a faltering hand on his shoulder. "You do not eat either."
"I try."
"I know you do. Try harder. Your body is so…" she grimaced, "Please try harder."
"I am fine," he assured her. Still, her hand rested on his shoulder, causing every nerve in his body, to wince at the contact.
Feeling the tremor beneath her hand, she asked, "Are you cold?"
He shook his head and grasped at his stinging hand. Blood was pouring onto the floor, just as it had in the very room only months before.
The murderer that he had been…
Johanna slipped back into the room with the bandages. Grasping his bleeding dead hand, the girl wound the wound with white cloth, the crimson spreading through the material. She continued to wrap the wound until no liquid bled through and the bandage was secured in place. With a gentle pat, she questioned, "Was the blade dirty?"
"I had just cleaned `em," he mumbled in reply.
"Of course, it's all you ever seem to be doing in your spare time."
Silence greeted her accusation. "Try to be careful, and if the wound becomes infected, I will clean it as best as I can."
"Thank you, doctor," he added with a twitch of the corner of his lips.
Overwhelmed by the joke, though it was small in its measure, she kissed him on the cheek and locked him in a tight embrace. "I have nightmares, too," Johanna breathed. "I understand, father."
He returned her embrace with his good arm. "Thank you, not just for the bandages."
Disinclined to let go of him, the girl uncoiled her arms from around him and left the room for a final time after gently squeezing her mother's hand.
Lucy, who had remained standing aside of the chair, wrapped him with the shawl she had been wearing. "You're freezing," she states as she pulls it tighter around his slim form.
Now, the commotion had also summoned Mrs. Lovett into the room, her eyes searching the darkness for the source of such a disturbance. "What happened here?" she asked the couple when her eyes had adjusted to the room.
"Nothing," Lucy replied in a cool tone. "You may go."
Mr. Todd flicked his gaze to his wife, almost surprised by the icy pitch of her voice. Lucy did not seem to notice his shock, for she was now glaring at Mrs. Lovett, aware that the woman was staring at her husband. How the years had truly shaped his angel. Yes, he still loved her, she was still beautiful, and she still remained his reason, yet she was not so virtuous.
"No, Lucy. I am alright now. Why don't you go back to sleep? You need your rest…you," he gulped a breath of air and released his next words through clenched teeth, "the baby…"
With a look of wonder, she smiled and whispered, "Thank you."
He shrugged the shawl off of his shoulders. "It was really nothing…here is you're…er…shawl," he mumbled as he returned the fabric to its rightful owner.
Clutching the material in her hands, she sneaked around Nellie and left for her room, the door shutting with a gentle creak.
"You are going to be alright, Mr. T?"
He bobbed his head up and down in answer. "Yes. You…you may sit if you wish." He stood with shaking legs and pointed to the chair, only to be turned down.
"Naw, I'm fine right here."
He shuffled his feet, causing Mrs. Lovett to choke back a giggle at his slightly childish act. Suddenly, the transformation from giddiness to pure gloom had taken place, causing the light from Mrs. Lovett's eyes to leave. "So, you two are going to have yourselves another bouncing baby?"
It took him at least a few seconds to respond. "Yes. We are."
"You must be very happy."
He sent her a look of slight confusion. "Uh, yes, I am."
She shifted her feet, taking on a comfortable position against the wall, as he leaned against the arm of his chair.
"Eleanor?"
The baker looked up, utterly shocked that he had used her actual name. "Y-yes, Mr. Todd?" she whispered in complete awe.
"What was Albert like? I cannot quite remember him that clearly."
The question had sent a jolt of pain coursing through her body, making her rigid. What was her Albert like? He…had she even given him a second thought since the day of his passing? Had she even mourned for the loss of someone she had vowed to cherish throughout the remainder of her being?
"He was a good man, me Albert was. Never too hard on someone unless he really had to be, he was. I do not know if our marriage was a condition or if it was solely based on the fact that we truly cared for each other."
She motioned to the walls around her. "When we moved in here, he had suggested that we begin a pie business. I have a suspicion that he made the suggestion so he could simply gorge himself without remorse." A smile played on her lips at a memory that would never be known to any other.
"We were happy together, yet our relationship seemed to be that of friendship, rather than marriage. Sometimes, he acted as if I was not even in the same room as him, causing me to brood away in me bedroom while thinking of ways to please him. Nevertheless, he was very dear to my heart, yet he never could fill it."
Bowing her head so that her face could not be read, she concluded, "And then I met you."
A small pang went off inside of Sweeney's chest. Yes, he felt somewhat, guilty about turning this devoted woman away. She really did love him, it was unmistakable. How did he feel towards her?
Golden sparks began to paint the floor as the sun poked its way through the night clouds. Morning had come, and what a night it had been.
The moment between the two had passed. Mrs. Lovett bid him goodnight, then corrected herself after realizing that the night had ended and it was sunrise. "Might as well start the day early…pies…sometimes I get so sick of `em."
Offering a small grin, he muttered, "Customers. All I wish to do is polish `em off and continue with my day."
Chuckling at the sinister joke, she descended down the stairs that led to the outside.
He adored Lucy. He worshiped the very ground that she trod upon. Yet, when it came to a good joke, Mrs. Lovett was the woman for Sweeney Todd.
Following Mrs. Lovett down the stairs, Sweeney noticed the baker talking to his daughter. She handed her a few coins and beamed when Johanna gave her a hasty hug and pulled away. The girl then walked to the street and began to make her way to the direction of St. Dunstan's market.
"You sent her to retrieve something?" Sweeney Todd questioned as he watched his daughter sauntered down the road, sending smiles to the passing strollers.
"Just some sugar, we are running low," Lovett replied as she sent him a look of benevolence. "Don't worry, Mr. T. She'll be alright. I'll even send Toby after her."
As she turned to fetch the boy, Mr. Todd continued to look ahead. Pushing away the ominous feeling of danger, Todd squinted to find his daughter as she continued to advance down the boulevard.
Little to their knowledge, a cloaked stranger sighted the blonde girl, and had begun to follow, stalking her in the concealment of the shadows.
