title Girl Anachronism

author pinkeop

summary Behold the world's worst accident, I am the Girl Anachronism. ( AU )

authors note Thank you for your kind reviews! You all really are too kind! I'd especially like to thank andaere because she's a constant reviewer of my stories. And yah know, she's just a sweetie about it. 8D

The story line should be moving along more often now. I'd just like you all to know right now that the events of the solid concrete events of the story aren't going to be altered too much, like how they get Toby, or Johanna or Antony. Ana is going to be one the wiser about the pies and what goes into them, however. She's gonna know all the dirty little secrets. Just because it's no fun writing about a character who's clueless.

I wanna apologise for the lenght of this chapter. It just seems to run on forever, but I should couldn't find an appropriate place to stop it. xx

Next chapter, Ana meets Antony and Mr. Todd learns of Johanna.

Without further ado, entre le chapter de three!

Love!

Pink Elephants on Parade.

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chapter three Worst Pies in London

Missed me missed me now you've got to kiss me

If you kiss me mister take responsibility

I'm fragile mister just like any girl would be

And so misunderstood (so treat me delicately!)

Nellie and Mr. Todd, Ana would soon come to discover, were completely mental.

A week had passed slowly as Ana helped the kind baker around the shop, though of course few people came in. Sometimes Nellie would sing- okay, Nellie would ALWAYS sing -about how she served the worst meat pies in all of London. During these times, Ana found it hard not to smile as she washed the floor for Nellie, or the counter, or the tables. The woman was so motherly that Ana found it hard not to feel comfortable, though of course she constantly had the weight of the world pressing on her chest every time she would look out into the street and see the unfamiliar settings. Her mother was gone. Forever. Or until she figured out a way back, which seemed almost impossible now.

Ana slept in the bed with Nellie, curled up to her side, like a mother and child, and she could tell the baker appreciated her gestures. Nights were the hardest for Ana. The old house creaked and Mr. Todd paced upstairs. Back and forth. Thump. Thump. It seemed to lull poor Nellie to sleep, but it kept Ana awake until her eyes snapped shut out of exhaustion. During the night, she would dream of her mother's harsh, cold stare and Nellie's warm, soft smiles. She would dream of her father, stern but always kinder to her than her mother. And she would dream of running. Running as fast as her legs could carry her, but she wore a corset too tight and she couldn't gather enough breath to make it to whatever she was looking for at the end of her vision. Her dreams would cause her to jerk and twist during the night, and sometimes she would wake to Nellie soothing her sleepily back into calmness. She would awake on her own to a usually empty bed, then come out and help Nellie with the shop. Not that any customers ever came. Why would they? After all, her Nellie made the worst pies in all of London, after all.

Nellie loved to listen to Ana tell stories about where she came from, though of course she thought she was making them all up, Ana could tell from the mischevious look in the woman's hazel eyes. But, it gave Ana things to do, and Nellie seemed to enjoy it. Ana would tell her about washing machienes when they did laundry, about dish washers when they cleaned plates, of televisions and movie theatres and automatic cameras and computers. Then Nellie would laugh and pat the young girl on the head in a loving way. "I love your stories, Ana," she would say. "Such an imagination you have!"

Mr. Todd rarely came downstairs. Sometimes, in the mornings, he would bring down a tray of half-picked at dinner from the night before, and then retreat to his room above the shop. Nellie would retreat upstairs at random times with a tray of food, and return down looking much unhappier than she did when she went up. Usually he paced, back and forth, around and around, to and fro. He paced. Once, during the week that Ana had been there, helping Nellie, cleaning and playing with the flour-y dough, Mr. Todd had come down after nightfall. Nellie was cleaning the counter and chattering away as Ana sat on the stool by the sink and watched. He came down, and sat right at the booth without saying a word. Ana figured he just missed the thought of company, being up there in his shop all day long with no customers.

That night, Nellie didn't come to bed until Ana heard the pacing of Mr. Todd above.

It was a bright, warm Sunday morning when Ana finally mustered up the courage to question about the man that lived upstairs.

"Nellie," she said softly as the two women sat at the counter, idly rolling some dough in the flour, the two of them intent on making some jelly-filled pies to induldge on later in the evening. "What happened to Mr. Todd? I mean... why is he... so...?"

"Cold?" Nellie finished, smiling weakly. "Quiet? Brooding? Mean? Take your pick, love."

"All of the above," Ana said sheepishly.

Nellie paused her work and looked at Ana with a smile, soft and weak. "Well... 'e 'ad this wife, yeh see... beautiful little thing. 'Er name was Lucy. Pretty, lovely Lucy. 'E 'ad this daughter. Johanna." Nellie sighed softly, looking upwards. "Fifteen years ago the lot of them lived above me- before me poor Albert died. 'E went by the name Benjamin Barker then... A proper artist with a knife, 'e was. Best barber this side of London."

"What happened?" Ana asked softly, staring at the counter top.

"Mr. Barker made this shop bright, 'e did," Nellie said. "Always smelt like shaving cream and vanilla. Lucy was a joy. So was little Johanna. One day, though... It all went away. The light. The life. The joy. Mr. Barker was transported, on false charges, to Australia." She sighed, looking up at the ceiling again. "Lucy... she... she died. The judge that sent her Benjamin away took Johanna as his ward. Judge Turpin. Evil man Not long after, me Albert died, and I was alone for a good fifteen years.

"Then Mr. Todd came..." She looked down again. Ana glanced at her with curious eyes. "Got 'ere not long before you showed up, love. Maybe 'alf a fortnight. 'E's changed, Mr. Todd 'as. Vows his revenge against the man that sent him away. Wants 'im dead, 'e does."

"Dead?" Ana repeated.

Nellie looked nervously from Ana to to the ceiling. "Achin' to slit a throat, 'e is..." she said quietly. "But.. 'e's good, 'e is." Her voice grew almost frantic as she tried to back track. Ana's heart thundered in her chest as she looked upwards. An unstable man with a razor. Very good, yes, that was just wonderful.

"But 'e's good. Takin' justice into 'is own hands, is all... 'E's good," Nellie was saying.

"I won't tell," Ana said softly, looking down at her flour covered hands. "If... anything were to... just... I wont tell. I promise."

Nellie's relief flooded over her. Ana sighed, pulling her brows together in the middle of her forehead. "I see it in 'is eyes some days," Nellie said quietly, rolling the dough. "The man 'e used to be."

Ana leaned closer to the kind baker. "Do you love him, then?" she asked softly.

Nellie looked her way, and her brows pulled together. "Aye. I love 'im like I love you, Ana. Yeh both bring some good to me life." The woman wrapped one thin arm around Ana's shoulders and pulled her close. "But don't go gettin' into that too much, love. Yeh young yet. Yeh don't know what such feelin's would do to yeh."

Ana frowned, but Nellie was already chipper again, slapping her flour covered hands against her mid section and hopping off her stool. "Do me a favor, would yeh, deary and go up and see if Mr. Todd would like to come out for a spell? I was thinkin' a trip to the market was in order."

Ana's eyes followed Nellie as she bustled from the shop and around the corner into the parlor. Her heart was in her throat as she glanced towards the ceiling. The pacing hadn't started yet, and she was almost afraid to go up and disturb the silent man. Clenching her teeth and forcing up a great amount of courage- the same amount it took to talk back to her mother -she brushed her hands over the black mid section of her dress, leaving scuffed handprints of flour behind, and strut towards the door of the court, turning and thumping up the stairs. Under the big skirt of the dress, she wore her trainers, able to wreslte the converses back from Nellie after explaining that she would break her neck should she try to walk in the heels the woman had attempted to force upon her.

One up to the landing, she looked over Fleet street with wild curiosity. Everything seemed so dark, and dready, and unhappy. But Ana knew better- below, in the shop, was the happily bustling woman by the name of Nellie Lovett. Fleet streets own little ray of happiness.

Ana turned and gazed upon the door. A small part of her thought of how this door had once, for a few brief minutes, belonged to her. A bigger part forced her hand to raise, curl into a fist, and knock three times rapid fire against the glass of the door.

Silence.

Another three knocks.

Silence.

Ana bit her lip and glanced over the railing of the landing, hoping to catch a glimpse of Nellie, but the woman must've still been inside. With caution, the girl looked upon the door and with much courage, turned the knob, surprised with the way it opened with ease.

It didn't look too different, the room. It was bare, much more bare, with just a cot, an old vanity, a writing desk, and a trunk behind the door. Of course, the one thing that drew Ana's eyes to attention was the silent man standing at the slanted bay window, gazing out over Fleet street. His back was to her, his hair wild and twisted in messy, wirey clumps. For a barber, he looked very ill-groomed. When the bell above the door jingled with her entrance, his body shifted and he looked calmly towards her. His face was pale, much more so than the few times she had seen him before then, and the bruises under his eyes had worsened. All those nights pacing, he must've never had time for sleep. The look in his eyes suggested pure, unadulturated hatred for her, but Ana pushed that thought out of her head and stepped lightly into the room, letting the door swing behind her.

"Mr. Todd," Ana said after clearing her throat. The man gazed at her lackadasically. "Nellie wants you to come down. We're going to the market." She wrung her hands together lightly, nervously, the look in his eyes never once wavering. "Uhm... please?"

The man almost looked tolerantly amused before he waved his hand at her in dismissal and the dark look was back. "Inform Mrs. Lovett that I'll be down momentarily."

With that, Ana assumed she was dismissed from his presence, and caught in the corner of her eye as the man moved towards the vanity and run his fingers over the smooth contours of a velvet-red box. Something tugged at Ana's conciousness and she whirled around in a full circle, eyes snapping toward the man's hand as his fingerless-gloved-fingers stroked a gleaming silver row of silver-chased handles. Her heart was slamming in her throat as she took a curious step forward, forgetting that attached to that hand, was an arm. And attached to that arm, was a now very upset-looking man.

"Yes?" his voice was lazily drawled, but the emotion was there- annoyance.

Ana's eyes snapped upward and his black eyes caught her's like a snake ready to strike. She swallowed thickly and opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to squeak out even a word. Instead she ducked her head, but kept one eye focused on the silver that lay a yard away from her own hand. "Are they yours?" she finally asked, nodding to the silver handles.

Mr. Todd's lip curled back in pure distaste. "Out." He whispered in annoyance.

"I found those in my room," she went on, taking a step towards him and the vanity. "Before I ended up here. They was under a floorboard that I broke when I threw my luggage across the room. Along with a little book. A little journal."

"Out," the man hissed a little louder, his fingers curling around the handle of silver that he held currently in his had, pressing it tightly to his palm to way one does when they don't want to lose grip on something.

"Beauties, they are," Ana continued, stepping one final step close enough. She made the mistake of reaching out one hand and touching the cold silver with the tip of her ring finger.

One large hand snapped around her wrist and forced her back a few stumbly steps, which they were considering her legs wrapped up in the skirt of her dress. Mr. Todd's face was livid. "Out!" He roared, throwing her back with disgust. Her own temper flaired, but the more sensible part of her told her not to mess with this man who held a razor. Ana tripped over herself in haste to get out of the door. "Save your stories for the baker!" the man snarled behind her. It was to her surprise that he was stalking out of the room after her, the razor he had been holding placed safely in a leather holister at his hip. Ana pulled her skirt up to her knees and flew down the stairs with the angry barber stomping after her. Mrs. Lovett chose that moment to step out of her court, made up pretty with a hat pinned into her hair.

Ana found herself putting Nellie inbetween herself and the barber, but it seemed that by the time Mr. Todd had reached the bottom of the stairs, he was calmer, his look of annoyance and anger replaced with the sudden realization that he had been coaxed into going on a shopping excursion. Nellie chuckled and her lips pulled up into a warm smile.

"Come along, Mr. Todd," Nellie crooned, placing one small hand along the small of his back and pushing him forward. Ana trailed quietly behind, the bottoms of her dress dragging along the cobblestones. The day was warm, but not entirely bright, as the sun was stifled behind the ever present layer of thin, gray clouds. The girl looked upwards as she walked, her eyes wincing at the brightness of the sky.

"Aye-talian," Nellie was saying ahead of her to Mr. Todd. "Best barber this side of London. Comes 'ere every week."

Ana sped up and fell into step at Nellie's side, letting the older woman take her hand as they slipped into the throng of people that buzzed about the market. For Ana, it was a new experience, and her eyes were wide to take it all in. The open stalls reminded her of the fairs she and her father went to every year. Only this time these were actual people trying to make a living, and the smell of rotting fruit gagged her every other stall she passed. A small exchange between Nellie and Mr. Todd went almost unseen by Ana, for the man was no on her do-not-look-in-the-eye list. But soon she was being pulled into the centre of a small crowd of people, gathered around a stage.

Perelli's Miricle Elixer the sign read. A soft chuckle left Ana's lips.

The curtain was pushed back and out leapt a young boy, surely no older than twelve, carrying a drum and stick, which he beat rapidly to gather the attention of the crowd. Ana stepped closer to Nellie.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The boy said loudly, his blonde hair almost falling out from under his hat. "May I have your attention please!" The drum was cast aside. "Do you wake every morning in shame and dispair to discover your pillow is covered with hair? Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, from now on you can wake in a tease! You may never again have a worry or care, for I will show you a marvelous rare!"

"Farce," Mr. Todd whispered to Nellie, and to her surprise, as well as to Ana, for his eyes looked to both women. Ana smiled shakily at the barber, who turned away from her, obviously still sour over their little exchange in his shop. Ana wrinkled her nose and looked up at the boy on the stage.

"Look at the top of my head!" the boy shouted, flipping off his cap into the crowd. His mess of blond hair fell to his shoulders and Ana chuckled along with a few others. Nellie shook her head with a smile, and Mr. Todd stayed without emotion. "T'was Perelli's Miricle Elixer, that's what did the trick sir, true, sir, true!" the boy went on.

"Was it quick, sir? Did in in a tick, sir! Just like an Elixer ought to do! Would you like a bottle, mister? Just a penny, I give you my word!" The boy grabbed a clear bottle with yellow liquid inside and tossed it to the crowd. A man a few people right of Ana caught it. She peered around the crowed to watch the man unscrew the cap and take a wiff before passing it along.

"T'is unique!" The boy went on. "Soon you'll have to think it once a week!"

The bottle rounded closer and Ana took it as it was handed to her.

"Pardon me, M'am," Mr. Todd said haughtily to Nellie. "What's that awful stench? Are we standing near an open drench?"

Nellie's lips curled up in a tight lipped smile and she leaned down to Ana. "Pardon me, M'am, what's that awful stench?"

Ana couldn't up but chuckle and bit her lip as she handed it over to Nellie, who passed it to Mr. Todd. The man held it to his nose and wrinkled his brow, his lip pulled back in a scowl.

"You can have your pick, sir, of the girls!" The boy shouted over the crowd.

"What is this?" Mr. Todd said loudly, haughtily, with a mischevious smirk on his face. Ana's face contorted in curiosity. A smile seemed to forgien on his face, and even so this wasn't the smile of a man having a fun at a young boy. This was the smile of a man forming a dark plan, even as he peered into a bottle with a foul smelling concocting inside. An odd one, Mr. Todd wasn, Nellie was right about that much of him.

"Smells like piss," Mr. Todd said, handing it around Nellie to Ana.

She sniffed it and gagged. "Smells like- ew!" she agreed, handing it to Nellie.

"Wouldn't touch it if I were, you dear." Nellie soothed as she gave the bottle back to Mr. Todd.

"Looks like piss," he said, holding the bottle to the light.

Ana looked down at the ground, her smile tight on her lips.

"This is piss!" Mr. Todd deducted. "Piss with ink!" He handed it along. "Keep it off your boots, sir, eats right through!"

Suddenly, the curtain was pushed passed again, and the blond boy dove out of the way. The man was tall and lanky and thin, his body clad tightly in a blue suit and Ana had to not mention David Bowie to Nellie under her breath- mostly because the man infamous for the blue jumpsuit didn't exist yet. His voice was loud and booming as he introduced himself- Adolfo Perelli, king of the barbers, the barber of kings! Ana leaned closer to Nellie and the two women exchanged curious looks.

"And who!" Perelli crowed, his accent grinding. "Dares to say my Elixer is piss? Who says this?"

Silence among the crowd. Finally, Mr. Todd looked up and stepped forward through the crowd. "I do." he said, his voice calm. "I am... Mister Sweeney Todd... of Fleet Street... I have opened a bottle of Perelli's Elixer, and I say to you that it is nothing but a fraud, concocted from piss and ink.. Further more, I wager I can shave a cheek with ten times more dexterity." He held up in his hands, Ana could see, two of his gleaming silver razors. "Each of these against five pound," Mr. Todd said cooly.

"Mr. Todd!" Nellie hissed under her breath, her brow furrowed.

"What is he doing?" Ana asked quietly to the baker at her side. Nellie groaned softly.

"Try'na get a business up an' runnin' yeh see," Nellie said hurriedly. "Try'na get people to see 'im as a barber. 'E ain't got no sense of mind, my Mr. Todd."

Ana watched carefully.

"Will Beadle Bamford be the judge?" Mr. Todd called out of the crowd. A man, short and portly which reminded her of a rat, meandered through the crowd, his top hat lopsided on his squished little face, his cane extended infront of him.

"Glad," the beadle crooned. "as always to obliged my friends and neighbors..." He stepped onto the stage and gave the rules. The one with the quickest, smoothest shave, was the winner. Ana grabbed Nellie's hand and pulled her towards the front of the crowd. Mr. Todd looked down at them with a gleam in his eye that made her quiver. The contest began.

Ana's eyes focused on Mr. Todd, and the way his big hands, callused with the years he had been locked away, were nimble and quick as they smoothed one open razor along a strop hooked to his belt, beside the holister for his razor. His face was calm, albeit his brow furrowed just a tad as his black eyes focused on his task. A proper artist with a knife, she remembered Nellie telling her as they sat at the counter. Ana leaned her elbows on the stage and looked up at the two barbers. Pirelli snapped the razor against the strop that the little boy held in his hand, scratching it over his knuckles. Ana winced with each snap.

Mr. Todd admired his handy work on his razor as Pirelli began lathering the mans face with a concoction that looked to be shaving cream, yet in a form forgien to her. Mr. Todd mixed the lather liesurely as Pirelli began shaving. Mr. Todd began spreading the cream over the man's face as Pirelli- with only a few strokes left -stopped to address the crowd. Mr. Todd shaved that mans face in seven easy, quick, painless strokes before Pirelli was able to finish his sentance.

"And the winner is- Todd!" the Beadle announced.

Ana looked at Nellie and the two women burst into grins and giggles as they moved around the stage to meet Mr. Todd as he came off, pocketing his razor and a nice five quid.

"Maybe it's just me gentle heart," Nellie said as an aside to Ana as she helped Mr. Todd on with his jacket. "But I hate to see a boy treated like that." Ana turned her head back to the stage just in time to see Pirelli slap the blond little boy behind the curtain.

Ana wrinkled her nose as Mr. Todd and a man had an exchange, blocking them out momentarily. Her mother had hit her, certainly. She had slapped her around and left bruises countless times, but even then nothing so harsh, and not for no good reason. Ana had earned all those slappings. She talked back, got into fights, skipped class, smoked and drank and snuck out on warm nights and went into clubs where she was still too young to be gained enterance to. A ping of sympathy went out for the boy. She pursed her lips and looked back towards the baker and her baber.

"...then you shall surely see me there before the week is out, my friend." The beadle was saying to Mr. Todd.

"Come along, Ana," Nellie said softly, grabbing her hand and pulling her in tow. "When we get back, I want yeh to help me clean the shop. Maybe you can tell me on of yeh stories."

"Of course, Nellie," Ana said quietly, looking over her shoulder. She wasn't sure what she had been hoping to catch a glimpse of. Something to explain everything, maybe... But all she saw was the crowd dispersing and going about their day, as if nothing had happened. "Of course," Ana repeated, turning quietly without another word.

It wouldn't hit her until later the thought of the elaborate web she, the baker, and the barber would soon be weaving.