A/N: Wow, so it's been another full month? This is horrible. Unfortunately, even though it might sound like an excuse, my other grandfather passed on the ninth. Yeah, I know. It's only been a month since my father's father passed, now my mother's father is gone. Things have just been extra hectic lately, but I decided today, after coming home from the funeral, that I really should start writing to get my mind off things. Thank you all for you earlier condolences, by the way.
Don't worry, I'm a strong, optimistic person. All of the future chapters won't be dull and grey and meaningless. I do like writing angst, though. Even if I'm not in any emotional pain, words seem to come to me. Anyways, I'll stop this long author's note to present the next installment.
Chapter Thirteen
For the longest while, all Nellie did was stare at that crumbling, ashy doorway, mouth open ever so slightly, mind buzzing. Nothing seemed real. Nothing seemed sane. She couldn't bring herself to move from the floor, where Toby was laying unconscious, bleeding. Yet, battling with herself, she longed to spring upward and dash to Sweeney, to stop him, to shower him with countless apologies.
Even if the barber would have kill her right then, despite her sincerity, Nellie wouldn't of minded. As long as Mr. Todd knew that she wasn't out to hurt his already wounded soul.
Rarely blinking, Nellie remained kneeling, face flushed, dress ripped. The rumbling thunder that had collected outside mounted to a crescendo, booming so intensely that it shook the room, dust and ash drifting from the ceiling.
This had brought the baker temporarily from her thoughts and she closed her open mouth, washed over with shock, not wanting to think or feel anymore. She was sick of hurting so much, of being used, being rejected. Again, she was reminded of Turpin's greedy, greasy hands exploring her body.
Shutting her eyes very tight, the baker seethed in, lip quivering, struggling to push away the vision of Mr. Todd snarling in the doorway.
"Enough," she mumbled to herself, a throaty plead, and she bowed her head, attempting to numb her mind. Crestfallen tears trailed down her pale cheeks, over her jaw, sliding down her neck. She had tried so desperately to warm him, to nourish and brighten him, and this rigorous failure began to consume Nellie Lovett.
Regardless of her caution and Sweeney's heated rejection, Nellie knew that her barber wouldn't last long, alone, lost in the rain. He would have already forgotten that police were after the three of them, and would be at a high risk of being caught in his sullen depression and rage. Devoted, that's what Nellie was. Incessantly devoted.
Biting her trembling lip, she sniffed and centered her attention on young Toby at her lap. His face was too faded, his cheeks no longer holding a boyish pink. Thoughts mainly on Sweeney, Nellie wiped the blood from his nose with some of the cloth of her skirts.
"Toby dear," she cooed in her soft, crackling voice, "Come on, love, please snap outta this..."
Sniffing again, she smoothed out his hair, shaking his small frame a little. Her voice raised, "Please, Toby. Wake yeself up."
Lightning flashed and lit up the darkened bedroom, and Nellie started to shake. Mr. T...all alone in the storm.
Toby wasn't budging, poor thing, his nose continuing to bleed, so she collected him in her arms and stood on unsteady legs. Nellie was ashamed of herself for considering to leave the boy there, so she could venture out in search of Mr. Todd.
A violent boom of thunder startled her greatly and she nearly dropped Toby, her own wrists bleeding from the earlier handcuffs. The ceiling creaked ominously, wood snapping, and Nellie shot her gaze upward, eyes wide, filled with dread.
This crumbled, ancient house wasn't going to hold up much longer. They had to get out.
Just then, a groan came from behind her, from the woozy constable she had attempted to knock out. Gasping, Nellie turned and kicked the back of his head, putting the policeman back in his place.
A series of low cracks from above warned her, brought her back, and lightning lit the room for another moment. Ash began to drift from the ceiling like snow. Fleetingly, Nellie dragged Toby and herself to the corner of the room, snatched her bag of clothing and money, and staggered to the door.
Hair askew and tumbling over her eyes, she struggled with the bag and boy, moving as fast as she could considering her own aches and pains. Not two seconds after leaving the bedroom, half of the ceiling caved in, covering the constable and mattress with the half of the upper floor.
Nellie let out a scream, trying to dodge the falling pieces of glass and wood, running out of breath. The burnt house was practically chasing her in its destruction, and the baker let out a cry when she reached the front steps, flinging herself and Toby onto the lawn.
The rain was pouring so persistently that it nearly hurt when meeting her skin. Woman and boy had landed on top of the emergency bag, and she rolled over onto her back, craning her neck to look back at her wooden enemy.
All very quickly, the house sank to a point in the middle, dirt and ash billowing around, the very structure of her parent's house deprived of everything it used to be. Chest heaving, Nellie set her head back onto the grass, coughing from the ash, and let the rain soak into herself.
A few minutes passed as Nellie collected herself on the grass, eyes closed, Toby laying beside her. It was growing into evening already, and her second day away from London was coming to an end. For the love o' baby Jesus.
"Why did the good Lord 'ave to go and stomp me 'ead in?" The voice groaned beside her.
Eyes still closed, a relieved breath escaped her lips. Well. At least that woke 'im up.
"I dunno, Toby. Maybe he's 'aving a bad day."
Tobias let out a high squeak that was probably a laugh, considering his fatigue. The strength of the storm above them silenced any other conversation. Both of them ached, physically and emotionally, and were decidedly drained from doing anything further.
A strange whimper came from inside the sack that was between them, and Toby turned his head, opening his eyes, puzzled.
It took him only a moment to sort it together in his head.
"Bugger!" he yelped weakly, turning the bag over so it was upright. A sulking bundle of black fur came limping out, ears drooping in discomfort and pain, very unhappy. The kitten mewed suddenly, now aware of the rain, and snuggled himself back inside of the rucksack.
Awestruck, Nellie's eyes shot open, and turned over, supporting herself with her arm.
"Bloody thing must've snuck in there when the police came..." Nellie trailed off, thoughts snaking back to Mr. Todd again. With a sigh, her keen gaze trailed upward into the clouds. Oh, Mr. T. I am yours for all my life.
It pained Sweeney that he had been giving small, yet true affection to the wretched woman who was causing him grief. Only hours before, they both were snug together on the mattress, as if she meant something to him.
Walking on the side of the empty road, Sweeney scowled, shaking his hair of the heavy rain. "The little whore probably persuaded Lucy into..." His throat caught, the idea twisting inside of him, causing him to pulse with his wonted rage.
Todd had forced himself to cease his sobs an hour before, when he was kneeling in the grasses, as the cries that had racked his body nearly made him ill. Overstimulated and hurting, he decided that finding shelter would be the first thing to accomplish. Somewhere safe and dry where he could calm himself and focus on what must be done.
Late in the evening now, the storm didn't cease in its battle; if anything, it regained strength and was growing harsher. Dark eyes glinting maliciously, Todd was stiff and edgy as he made his way toward the town close by.
The rain, fortunately, was washing the blood from his face and hair, but it hardly benefited his appearance: His shirt was ripped and half missing, stained with blood. Todd's black pants were coming apart around the ankles and were smeared with dirt, his shoes scuffed and worn. The grimace over his face wouldn't exactly bring forth the children of the streets.
It was only then, as Todd neared the unknown village, when he remembered the reason as to why he couldn't retreat upstairs to his barber shop. He was a wanted man. Word of him had probably spread throughout London and the cities surrounding it. Aimlessly roaming the streets was no longer an option for the murderer.
Panicking for only a moment, Todd flicked his gaze to the outskirts of the town. In the darkness, he could make out the beginning of a new, winding street. He pushed himself into the shadows of his path, shivering slightly from the cold rain, until he found himself in a muddy corner. Few were outside, as no one frolicked in such weather, and this settled his apprehension.
Quickly looking around him, Todd knelt to the curb and cupped the rainy mud that was flowing down the stoned path. Much to his dislike, he smeared the mud onto his face and clothing, ripping his pants a little more. He made sure to thoroughly cover the pale streak in his hair, assuming this would be something vital in the description of his appearance.
Todd twisted his hair around to make it more disheveled, if possible, and set his jaw before setting out into the street with a slight limp. A beggar, that's all he was.
Edging towards a small Inn, he placed a weak frown upon his lips, hoping desperately that the people of the village were true Christians.
"Ya gotta hold still, little love," Nellie reminded, trying to sound gentle, but her patience was running thin. She had ripped a part of an old nightgown she found in her sack and was now pressing the cloth to a hefty wound on the back of Toby's head.
Squirming a little, Tobias winced, teeth clenched tight. "Ah! That 'urts, mum."
"It'll 'urt even more if ya keep movin' like that," she snapped, trying to subside the steady flow of blood. The boy shifted again in pain, and Nellie huffed, taking his chin so he could look her in the eye. She opened her mouth to speak but Toby beat her to it.
"I'm tryin', mum. Honest. It stings real bad!" he pleaded, brown eyes shining. Sopping wet, they had both moved under the branches of a large tree, and Bugger was nestled in the sack on the grass.
Nellie sighed, turning her head outward to the darkening sky. If they weren't quick enough, night would fall, and they'd both catch their deaths. Or the plague.
"Keep this on your 'ead till I say it's alright ta move it, ya hear?" Her dark eyes were exhausted and weary as they settled back on the boy, the maroon powder around them smeared and streaked.
Feeling guilty, Tobias nodded, wincing again as he shifted the cloth on his head.
Bending down and picking up the sack, Nellie peered inside at Bugger, still amazed that he wasn't harmed. Toby had made sure to check the little thing over, and he seemed alright. A tired smirk spread over her lips as she watched the furry puff snooze in one of the legs of Toby's trousers.
"I guess ye deserve to come along, since you bleedin' survived the house avalanche. Dontcha think?" She looked over to messy-haired Toby, who knew that she was only putting on a happy face for him.
"Yes mum." It was all he could say, as he watched her reach inside and pull out a glint of silver. Toby immediately stiffened. "Ow did you...?"
Nellie's face fell, surging with regret and pain again, as she opened the razor. "I took one of 'is older ones that I found the cupboard," she told him, studying it closely. She sniffed. "I thought that...that maybe 'e might need it, ya know, if he were to loose the other ones..."
Her chin quivered again, and Toby reached out to touch her arm. "It'll be alright, we'll find a way to--mum! What are ya doin to your 'air?!"
The baker let out a shaky sigh, watching her curls fall to the ground as she jerked the silver through her crimson tresses, "Gotta make it shorter," she mumbled, not at all pleased with her decision, "This will throw some of 'em off, 'opefully."
Toby watched in amazement as she hacked away at her red hair, cutting it so the ends rose an inch above her shoulders. She sniffed again, frowning deeply. The boy opened his mouth in protest, "But, are ya sure..?"
"Well it's too late now, innit?" Nellie retorted moodily over the loudness of the storm, running a hand through her short, wet locks, which were still crazy but not as noticeable.
She looked down, putting the razor back into side pocket of the sack, as to not hurt Bugger.
"If we're lucky, we can get some dye for the both of us, keep our 'eads down, change our looks," Nellie paused, pulling out a black knitted shawl from deep within the bag. She placed the shawl on her head and tied the ends of it under her chin, "But for now, we're Anna an' Davey Cooker, from the south."
The two of them set out into the rain again, weak and famished, but determined to survive. Within the passing moments of the evening, a few stars poked in through the billowing clouds, twinkling, watching. Ever again, devotion was what held together the threads of their strife.
Toby's devotion to his pale savior, and Nellie's devotion to the love of her life.
I'm comin', Mr. T.
A/N: Well, I'm definitely sleepy now. Excuse any typos, I tried to look it over as best as I could. I'll read it again in the morning.
Yeahh. I gots me some plans a-cookin. :)