A/N I know- I'm such a fantastic updater. But I partied until school started- and then I had to deal with school. Plus when I first started work on this chapter I hated it and wanted to scrap it. One the second read through I actually rather like it.. but it's a bit of... I don't know.. sort of like the beginning of a two part-er.. though as a chapter in a story I don't think that quite makes sense. Let's just say that I need this so I can have the next chapter... Generally I'm either at a stand still or pushing the plot forward rapidly. This odd important-transition bit is strange to me...
44
It was reassuring to know they were out looking, but it was terrifying to know that Toby was out there. Eleanor has since calmed down after Sweeney told her the news, though after she realized he was holding her hands she refused to let go. Surprisingly, he didn't seem to mind, which suited her just fine. Sweeney's eyes had left her the moment her panic ceased, however, and now the baker was determined to learn what he was thinking. Frowning up at him seemed to have caught his notice though, and soon after a twitch of his lips his eyes were back on her.
"What?" His tone was a great deal more snappish than she expected, especially since his hands were comfortably encircling hers.
"I was just…" Deciding she didn't want to say staring the baker quickly lied. "wonderin'."
The barber's face seemed to slowly pass into one of concern. "About what?"
"You." She offered tentatively, openly talking to him was a new privilege, and one she didn't want to lose.
Sweeney grimaced, as if she had just said something unappealing.
Deciding she didn't particularly like that, she pushed forward. "We're alone 'ere, ain't we?"
He frowned, "I suppose."
Remembering there were maids in the household, and concluding they wouldn't go out and risk themselves for an unknown child, she decided to let that answer slide. Of course, there was also the two unconscious men. "We're alone 'ere." Even knowing that bringing up the judge could very well take his attention away from her, Eleanor wanted to know. "Why aren't ya at the judge?"
His posture stiffened, and she could see his jaw clench. A rather malicious glint appeared in his eye, but his face remained passive.
Sweeney seemed to chose his words carefully when he finally decided to speak. "I have waited long enough." It also seemed he was speaking to himself. "He is completely at my mercy…"
Eleanor had found comfort in his hands, but their grip was soon becoming painful. In fact, he only loosened his grip when she let out a whimper of pain. For a moment he looked slightly guilty.
"I'll be back soon."
Before he could release her hands and push himself to his feet, the baker took him in her own iron grip.
"I'm comin'."
He didn't even try to hide the shock on his face. "What?"
"I'm comin' with you."
"Why?" Suspicion slowly crept into his features.
"I need ta see it end."
"You need to see it end?"
"What e's done is as much a part of my life as it is to yours."
"You're in no condition to get up," he snapped.
"Neither are you." She retorted.
Before he managed to pull himself away and stand, Sweeney stiffly nodded his head. "Fine." Once on his feet he turned slowly to help her up.
Despite her own mental determination Eleanor let out a choked gasp when she sat up. The barber's hands had been at her back and side trying to help her, and she trapped them once more in her own. "God Sweeney! 'Ow the bloody 'ell are you walking around?"
"Bending will be the worst with your side stitched," he sighed. "Come on pet, I wont have you slowing me down."
Pressing her lips together she nodded her head, ready to turn so her feet could dangle off the edge of the counter. Turning was a great deal less painful, but she also had her attention focused on the feel of his hands rather than the searing twinge of her own skin.
"Ready?"
For a moment the baker felt extremely nauseous at the notion of having to stand on her own two feet. She didn't even realize her breathing had become ragged until one of Sweeney's hands was on her face, and his crisp tone demanded her to 'breath, woman!'. Her head was towards the floor but she made herself nod, gripping his biceps to reassure herself he was still there. When Eleanor finally managed to pushed herself off the edge, it seemed for a moment that she was suspended in the air, but the ground quickly took care of her fantasy of floating. Her knees buckled but Sweeney kept her up despite his own grunt of pain.
Eleanor buried her face in the crook of his neck and bit her lip until blood dripped on the barber's shoulder.
Silence prevailed until Sweeney cut it short with, "I said you weren't going to slow me down."
Keeping herself steady by clutching his arm tightly, Eleanor slowly made it to steady feet. "Sorry," she muttered, slowly relinquishing her grip to wipe the blood from her face. When her downcast eyes finally made their way back up, the baker thought they were playing tricks on her. Blood was oozing from the side of Sweeney's mouth, and though her pain blurred vision told Eleanor it was hers, she knew it wasn't.
"Love, we shouldn't be doing this." She slowly reached out to wipe the blood from his face.
"You're the one who brought it up." The barber snapped.
Even though she has just absent-mindedly wiped her own blood on her dress, Sweeney's blood on her finger tips somehow felt more real.
"Nellie?" The man prodded, a little surprised she hadn't commented on what he said.
"If we ain't lying down we might as well go for a walk." She mumbled, eyes still fixed on her bloody fingers.
"Need to make up your bloody mind," the barber growled. He turned towards the door but kept one hand on Eleanor, lest she waver again.
"I believe ya have enough resolve for the both of us, dear." The baker took a hesitant step after him, only gaining confidence when she didn't immediately tumble to the ground.
"I said make up your mind, not gain resolve." With her in tow and unlikely of falling, Sweeney set a steady pace for the parlor.
Eleanor looped her arm in his, as if they really were a proper gentleman and lady going for a walk. "Ya've been so talkative lately, luv."
As if to reprimand her, he grunted in response. The baker smiled, knowing that laughing would hurt too much.
