Mine
Mr. Todd doesn't like it when Mrs. Lovett flirts with a customer? Sweenett!!
A/N: For those of you who've asked, yes, Lucy is legitimately dead in this story (please see author's note from Chapter 2). Sorry for not stating that earlier.
Also, please note that this chapter begins just after Mr. Todd has killed the judge. No need for to write what would amount to movie-scene recaps in my fanfic, right?
Chapter 5: Mercy
"Rest now my friend… rest now forever … sleep now the untroubled sleep of the angels …"
Revenge was bliss.
Bliss. He felt somehow calm and excited at the same time. It was strange. It was wondrous. Bliss, revenge was bliss. Nothing could match it, the savage joy of wrongs avenged by blood. And oh, he felt such a deep, dark satisfaction at having finally –
But his bliss was interrupted by a sound, a soft thud, and he turned. Someone was hiding in the trunk.
Well. So much for the rest of his friend. It appeared there was one more thing to dispose of first, a few more precious rubies that needed to drip from his blade.
"Come for a shave, have you lad?"
"N-n-no – I –"
He forced the boy out of the trunk and onto his chair. A strangely delicate-featured thing he was, his voice high and quavering, but Mr. Todd took little notice of the oddly familiar face. "Everybody needs a shave…"
He lifted his razor, preparing to strike as he had done so many times before, when he heard it: the unmistakable sound of Mrs. Lovett's scream.
Panic seized him. An ice-cold fist seemed to squeeze around his heart. He leaned in, glared at the boy, hissed "Forget my face," and ran downstairs to his accomplice's aid.
"Die! God in heaven, DIE!" Mrs. Lovett screamed as Judge Turpin clutched at her skirts, blood gurgling in his mouth, in his throat, gasping and trying to speak. She finally tore away from his grasp, and still his hands stretched out, his eyes wildly darting towards her even as they glazed over. Then, at last, the grasping hands fell, and those horrible eyes closed, and the stubborn bastard did as she commanded, and succumbed to his death.
Mrs. Lovett had barely a moment's breath to recover from her fright when she was given another one – but it was only Mr. T., covered in the blood of his handiwork and looking as scared as she felt.
"Why did you scream?"
"Oh, he was clutching at me dress, but he's finished now," she gasped, trying to regain her composure.
"Bloody hell, woman! I thought you were – I was –" No. He wouldn't say it. He wouldn't even admit it to himself. Not now.
"Open the door." She looked at him blankly. He grabbed her arm, roughly, and shoved her towards the bake oven. "Open the door, I said!"
He pretended not to notice her hurt expression as she complied. "We won't be using the meat then?" She asked timidly, indicating the judge and the beadle.
"No," Mr. Todd said, his voice harsh with hatred. "I want these two to burn."
He didn't add in the flames of hell, but he didn't need to. Mrs. Lovett gathered that that was the general idea. The practical part of her said it was a shame to waste all that meat – the beadle was especially plump – but as always, her desperate adoration of Sweeney Todd overrode any other concerns.
She watched as he tossed the bodies into the flames, first the beadle's and then the judge's. Then he stood in front of the open oven to watch them burn, seeming fascinated, and Mrs. Lovett began to worry.
Even from where she was standing, she felt uncomfortably hot, but he didn't seem to be bothered by his proximity to the fire at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; he seemed like a moth, hypnotized, entranced, drawing closer and closer …
Not caring if she made him angry, she pulled him away and slammed the door shut. He looked at her blankly – not mad, as she had expected, but almost … confused. Just to think of something happening to him … she swallowed.
"You can keep looking through the grate here if you like," she said softly. Seeming to come back to himself, he slowly shook his head.
"No," he said tiredly, "It's done."
He looked around and seemed to remember something. "The boy."
Oh god. Toby. My Toby. Mrs. Lovett's eyes filled with tears as the demonic glint returned to Mr. Todd's eyes. She almost hoped he'd escaped. Maybe he wouldn't go to the law. Maybe they … maybe she could convince him not to … there had to be a way!
"We need to find him," Mr. Todd said grimly, but he needn't have bothered. A whimper made them both turn to Toby's hiding place. He had been heading for the sewers, but had cut his harm on something sharp, and he had not been able to stifle the small sound of pain.
"Toby, oh Toby!" Mrs. Lovett gasped, as Mr. Todd dragged him into the light, razor in hand.
"Mum!" Toby screamed. "Please mum! Don't let him hurt me! Don't –"
"Mr. Todd – Sweeney – please – please –"
"What would you have me do?" He screamed at her, still clutching the struggling lad in his grasp. "You said it yourself, he'll go to the law!"
"No, no, he won't, will you Toby love? I'll make him swear not to, no, no, he won't do that to his mum, not to his mum!" She was crying now, near hysterical, but Sweeney Todd was unmoved, and his razor was ready –
"NO!" Wrenching the crying Toby from his grasp, she threw herself over the boy, shielding him from her lover's wrath. "NO, NO, NO, please, please! Not Toby! Not again, not again!" She fell to her knees, clutching the terrified boy, as they sobbed in each other's arms.
He looked at her then, at them. Really looked. They were clinging to each other like life itself. Toby's face was buried in her arms, whimpering, "Mum, mum," over and over. Both their bodies were shaking, their fear and their love painfully obvious, even to him. Sweeney Todd had never really cared for the boy, but the way Mrs. Lovett, felt about him …well, it was unmistakable. He had seen that kind of love before.
Fifteen years. Fifteen years, sweating, in a living hell, on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming, I might come home to a wife and child.
Wife and child. Mother and child. Mother and son.
Defeated, Sweeney Todd lowered his blade. For all his darkness, for all the lives he had taken, for all the horrible things he had done, for all the humanity he had lost… well, apparently, there were still lines that even he could not cross. He could not bring himself to rip the lad from Mrs. Lovett's arms and force her to watch as he slit his throat.
So he brought his fist down on the back of Toby's neck instead.
Mrs. Lovett let out a little scream as Toby slumped in her embrace. She looked up at Mr. Todd with a tear-streaked face and gasped, "Is he –?"
"No," he said softly, "I just knocked him out."
"Oh," Mrs. Lovett breathed, weeping again, this time with relief. Mr. Todd watched as she cradled Toby in her arms and crooned to him: "Nothing's gonna harm you, nothing's gonna harm you, love, nothing's gonna harm you, darlin', not while I'm around." She kissed and cradled him like an infant, rocking back and forth.
Strange, how he suddenly felt a tightness in his throat, as he watched her with the boy. In their time together, he had thought of Mrs. Lovett as many things, but he had never thought of her as a mother.
At least, not until now.