Kidney Pie – Part IV

-"A Gentleman Knocks"-

In the black silence of the barber shop, the rasp of an opening blade cut through the freezing air. Bitch. Sitting hunched in his deadly chair, Sweeney snapped the razor closed. How could she not notice, not say anything at all until she brought him his supper? It was Mrs. Lovett, for bleeding pity's sake. She could never stop fawning over him, never mind actually leave when he refused to let her in. She'd hardly even tried to change his mind.

Which meant, of course, that if he did change his mind, he would be the weaker of the two; or if he ate any of the untouched food outside his door. So he wouldn't take a bite or say a word to her until she gave in. He couldn't.

But he was starving. He flipped the razor open again and shut it hard. Whore.

He scowled into the shadows. How long had the shop been closed? Two hours? Three? Maybe if Nellie was asleep he could sneak downstairs and find something to eat. Even one of her bloody pies would be better than being defeated by her and her cooking. Standing, he moved through the dark to step on the chair's lever, listening through the bloodstained passage for any sounds from the bakehouse. He heard nothing.
He crossed silently to the door and slipped out, stepping carefully over the tray of cold food. Below, the lights of the pie shop spilled into yellow pools at the foot of the stairs, but no shadow moved across the windows. What-? If she was awake and wasn't working in the shop, what was she doing?
Sweeney kept low behind the rotting railing as he crept slowly down towards the courtyard. A glance into the kitchen told him nothing. It was deserted. But the other lights were off, the little house eerily silent. She must have forgotten to turn the light out. More confident, he crept into the shop, opening the door slowly enough to hush the swaying bells.

The quiet in the shop bothered him, somehow, as if the building should be as chattery-lively as it owner. It suddenly seemed odd to think that she even slept. Shaking the thought away, he let his eyes scan the counter instead. It would be too risky to stay long enough to cook something, but a pie would do well enough. And fortunately, she had forgotten a tray of them on the counter. He strode anxiously across the room, surprised by his own eagerness to escape the stillness, but froze when he saw what lay on the scarred, floury wood. Mrs. Lovett's cooking things were thrown and scattered around a half-eaten pie and a crumpled, red-lettered note. And in the center of the wreckage lay a battered top hat. Mr. Todd suddenly felt like his heart had just dropped through his trick chair. Nellie…

She should have known better than whisper with the likes of him, should know better than dress like a whore with that one running loose. What was she thinking? If she got herself torn up like that bloody beggar, she'd deserve it. She'll deserve it for not being content with me…

He suddenly felt sick. His fingers clenched around the hat's worn brim, he ran towards her bedroom. "Nellie!" Red-stained visions raced through his mind as he reached her door. But the cluttered room on the other side was dark and clean. And empty.

"Mrs. Lovett!" His shout rattled the baubles lining her shelves. The boy would probably wake up, but let him. They'd both look for her. Where is she? "TOBY!" The bakehouse! The thought of Nellie gutted amidst the bits of his butchered clients made his empty stomach churn as he raced desperately back towards the kitchen.

As he turned the corner into the light he nearly ran into the baker. "Mr. Todd!" Breathing heavily, she almost collapsed against him as he came to a frozen halt. Her clothes were disheveled, her corset missing, and her ratty hair hung loose. Against her pale collarbone she held one of her grubby dishrags, all but hiding the trace of smeared blood that stained her snowy skin. No. He felt is cold fear burn away as he snatched her arm away. The cloth pulled away to reveal a deep gash carved in her flesh.

"What did you do?" His voice was a growl, making her back cautiously away from him.

"I…I was working on the meat grinder, love. Something got jammed in here, had to fish it out, I did. Just got a little caught on one of the blades…"

She's a clever one, my pet. "And your corset?"

"You ever tried working in one?"

"And your hair?"

"It… it must've…"

"And this?" He held up the top hat, his eyes burning blackly. Mrs. Lovett stared back at him, speechless, but he didn't notice that her frightened eyes were no longer fixed on him until he felt the old hat tugged out of his hand.

"Thanks, old boss."

Sweeney's fingers leapt to his razor before he could even think, and the Ripper staggered clumsily back as he turned with the blade flashing. Jack, too, looked very quickly dressed, his black coat cast off like his reclaimed hat and his tie hanging loose. But in his hand was a long knife, it's edge gleaming with the deep, handsome scarlet of blood. Her blood. On his knife.

Bastard! Mr. Todd raised his arm to strike again as his rival crouched with his greedy knife ready to fly up and plunge under the barber's ribs. But before either could spring, Nellie leapt between them, her open palms held out to ward off the steel and silver closing in on her. "No you don't, the both of you stop it now!" There was still fear in her voice, but her manner was as collected as ever. She turned to her tenant as both men lowered their blades reluctantly. "Mr. Todd, I…"

Sweeney didn't want to hear it. Clutching his razor tighter, he turned and made for the door, pushing Mrs. Lovett into the Ripper as he stormed away.

-"Get out!"

"Mr. T!" Falling against Jack, Nellie pushed away from him and followed the barber outside. "Wait!" She reached the foot of the stairs in time to see him vanish into his shop, slamming the door behind him. She knew it was dangerous to follow him even as she gathered her skirts and started up the steps, but she had to explain. "Mr. Todd! Let me in!" The door was latched but she pounded frantically at it.

Only when a crashing soap mug fly into the door from the other side, driving spider web fractures into the glass panes, did she scramble back. She stood for a moment on the landing, thinking. She could deal with Sweeney when he calmed down. Until then, she had other problems. Her frustration started bubbling as she hurried down the stairs.

Inside the shop, her problem leaned casually against the counter, chewing contentedly on his forgotten pie. "Delicious, my dear. Absolutely delicious."

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The Ripper looked up, startled, for a moment, as though he had already forgotten the rival who would have killed him. "Oh, him you mean. Sorry, love. If I'd known he was the jealous type…"

Her anger flared a little higher. " I have been waiting for that man for fifteen bloody years and now I finally have my chance and you come barging in here and-"

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Eleanor, but it seemed to me I wasn't the only one enjoying myself back there."

"I-" True… She knew she'd gone far beyond just giving in. She fought off the memory of the Ripper's knife gliding cold across her skin … "Well, it's been a long time."

"Too long, it sounds like." He raised his hands innocently as she stepped towards him, her face a mask of outrage. "I'm not complaining, sweetheart. You were fantastic. But why wait so long? For him. If he doesn't love you."

That was the one thing Nellie refused to hear. "Get out."

"But I love you!"

"Is that why you were going to kill me!?"

"Well, I didn't!" He looked away sullenly as she glared at him, pouting slightly. "Yet."

"Out. Right now." Jack pressed his back resolutely against the edge of the counter, scowling. Mrs. Lovett let out an exasperated sound as she marched around the counter. She flung his discarded coat at him.

Turning, he gave her a wounded, childlike look. "But I-" She shoved the pies, tray and all, into his arms. Sweeping around the counter like a storm, she took the bewildered Ripper by the ear and dragged him to the door. "But – Love! Eleanor – I… Oo-ooh! Don't!"

"You get out, and if you want more bloody pies…" She tore the door open, the bells screaming, and shoved him through the still-opening gap. "You can come back when you learn to keep your hands to yourself!"

He twisted around as she pushed him out, wedging himself in the doorway, and for a moment was the fiend of Whitechapel again. "I'll remember this, you know! Let me in!" Mrs. Lovett hardly heard him as she shoved furiously at his shoulder. His voice and face softened a little. "Think about it." His grip on the door frame gave a little. "Please?" With one more heave, he fell back into the courtyard, letting her close the door and bolt it behind him. "I- I'll write you, then, shall I, love?" With a sigh, Nellie leaned against the wood and slide down it to the floor.

-"But I will get him back Even as he gloats"-

Whore! The precious picture frame hurtled through the dark shop as Sweeney ransacked his little desk for something else to throw, to destroy. He tore his leather strop from the wall and sent it flapping. Filthy slut! The heavy sharpening stone followed it. You lying beautiful bitch…

Exasperated, he flung himself into his chair, his clever mechanical partner, as if it could comfort him. It couldn't, and in barely the space of a breath he was pacing again. How could she? He provided for her, he relied on her. She swore she loved him. He…

He loved her. And, bloody hell, how he hated her! He gave out a deep breath as he slowed his pace and wandered to the window. He let himself imagine her dying, the startled look on her face as he killed her, the scarlet stream gushing from her slit throat. He let himself imagine that would satisfy him. But she'd rather have her throat cut by dear old Jack…

Looking down, he could see him now, standing outside in the courtyard, tapping and rattling Nellie's door. His coat lay across the ground nearby. He watch as the Ripper finally gave up and turned away, drifting all forlorn down Fleet Street.

Nellie could not choose that over him. It wasn't possible. He'd make sure of that. I will have her!

XXXXXXX

Thanks for reading, everybody. And thank you for the reviews. My apologies for Sweeney not being in the last chapter. And the smut. Sorry, it's all Jack's fault. He and Missus L just wouldn't keep their hands off each other. I had to go get the garden hose just to end it where I did!

Just a heads up, updates may come slower for a while. I am going to enter a writing contest, so I'll have a deadline to meet and, well, this'll just take a backseat. But I'll still be working on it as time allows.

I'm going to try to write a serious story about our Jack for the contest. Please keep your fingers crossed for me!