Forward
This is not your standard Todd fare, but the character representations would probably be best compared to the Sweeney Todd revival in NYC, if it does not in fact follow the same 'asylum' frame. One point I would like to clarify- at the time I started writing this, I had not seen the revival. Now that I have seen it, I can safely say it will probably not influence my work all that much, as the attitudes of my Todd and Lovett, and Michael Cerveris' Todd and Patti LuPone's Lovett are in fact virtually the same by coincidence. As for appearances, I made a point to try and depart slightly from any current or past representations, though there are similarities. The two main personae dramatis may be described as such:
Todd is a man of 45 or so, about 6'2 with a broad muscular frame, pale skin and dark flesh around light blue eyes. He has thick lips, high cheekbones and a full head of dark brown hair. He has vestiges of handsomeness, but time and suffering has made his appearance more forbidding than anything.
Lovett is a woman of 40, or thereabouts, about 5'11, with fair skin, red hair that is usually tied up, and hazel eyes with crows feet around them. Because of her dress and hairstyles, she often appears older than she is.
In general, I have tried to stay loyal to the characters and tried to keep all changes as realistic as possible. I have also introduced some original characters and used elements of the hypothetical historical account of the real Sweeney Todd. Some of the places and names mentioned here are real places and real people of historical origin, but for the most part (excluding the Sweeney Todd characters) this story is my own fabrication.
I also have to give serious props to my beta reader, Thessaly. She is hands down the most dedicated, thorough and grammatically nitpicky beta I've ever had, and this fic would've shrivled up and died long ago if I hadn't had her to bounce off of. Her creative and semantic imput is invaluable. Cheers, doll.
Without further ado...
Mrs. Eleanor Lovett had been born into a large family consisting of three brothers. At any given time during her childhood, she could be found in their presence, sharing in their games, wrestling with them for a bit of toffee, a toy truck, or a penny found in the street. Their mother had long ago given up the effort of preventing little Nellie from joining in the sibling rivalry. With her tough little fists and quick reflexes, Eleanor found she could defend herself quite effectively. She grew up poor and resilient, and struggling against a long legacy of failure and poverty, she had made something of herself. And damned if she was going to die like this.
Mrs. Lovett brought one heel sharply down on Sweeney Todd's foot, ducking away from the hot oven as he winced with a yelp. She dropped to the floor, and scrambled to reach the straight razor that he had carelessly dropped beside the meat grinder. She folded it in her hand, hiding it as she scraped her way to the other side of the meat grinder. Todd let out a vehement hiss, his eyes glittering with malice, the same crazed malice that appeared every time he spoke of the Judge. He advanced on her, throwing the heavy grinder to the side with a crunching metal crash.
Mrs. Lovett cowered against the floor as his hands reached for her throat. Suddenly her arm shot out, the razor clutched in her hand. Todd tried to dodge, but she was too deft, and caught him across the cheek. He roared as a searing flash of pain clouded his vision for an instant. Blindly, he batted the razor from Lovett's hand, receiving another cut across his hand for his trouble. Before Lovett could crawl away, he pinned her to the floor. She writhed against his bulk, pummelling his ribs with her fists and struggled to get her legs to bear so she could knee him, but his strength was too great. Maddened and frenzied, Todd closed his hand around her throat, crushing her windpipe. Lovett's eyes watered, her mouth working as she fought to breathe.
She hazily observed Sweeney Todd's bared teeth as he smiled viciously, filled with the sickening satisfaction of victory. Her hand searched for the razor, but found it too late. She was weakening, her vision turning dark. The last thing she perceived before unconsciousness was the dark shape of a constable uniform, and the meaty thunk as a billy club impacted the back of Todd's head.
Darkness.
---
Sweeney Todd, once Benjamin Barker, gasped at the scent of the smelling salts as they were waved under his nose. He was seated in the middle of an illuminated room. Squinting from the bright oil lamp, he raised a chained hand to the back of his head where he found a thick knot. He raised his head to observe his surroundings. It was a room, dark, comprising grimy brick. A barred window allowed in minimal light from the dawn.
"Mr. Todd. Or would you prefer Barker?" A sanctimonious voice intoned from behind him. Todd struggled to look behind him, but his legs were chained.
"You don't know me, Mr. Todd. But then, you've been rather indisposed as of late, or so I hear tell." The man paced around the chair, and Todd was able to get a better look at him. He was a tall man, wearing a black tailored black suit. Todd noted his impeccably trim moustache, and the slick way his hair was combed back. And how he smiled unpleasantly.
"My name is Sir Inspector Richard Blunt. I am your interrogator."
Sweeney Todd raised his bloodshot eyes to the man and smiled, his expression full of contrasting eeriness, making Blunt's smug arrogance wither at the edges.
"Oh, is that what you are?" Todd choosing his words carefully, suspecting James would reveal how much they knew of his crimes. "Is this my time to confess? Or would you like to ask me questions, first?"
"Well, I was going to charge you with attempted murder, but then your friend Mrs. Eleanor Lovett told us a rather interesting story. As you can imagine, it has shed considerable light on many recent disappearances," Blunt said, his voice full of purported menace. Todd was hardly impressed.
"And was my friend Mrs. Lovett kind enough to include the details about her own participation in this story you found so interesting?" he asked as he cocked his head to the side.
"She brought it off as though she was forced into it. I thought perhaps you might help me revise that thesis. She seemed rather too eager to convict you."
Todd considered him for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning. Naturally he expected Mrs. Lovett's treachery. He had to admire her gall- the woman simply had no virtue at all.
"You will find evidence of Mrs. Lovett's involvement in the cellar of the bake house."
James stood up.
"You're not denying your involvement?"
Todd fixed a belligerent look on the man, but didn't answer. Sir Blunt got up and made for the door, a thick wooden appointment with rusted hinges.
"Oh, and Sir Inspector - one more thing."
"Yes?" Blunt demanded haughtily.
"You will also find evidence in the pies."
James frowned disbelievingly. "Pardon?"
Todd didn't bother looking at him, but watched the sunrise through the barred window. A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
"The meat pies, Sir Blunt. The meat pies."
Blunt swallowed, and loosened his collar, his countenance becoming slightly green. He quickly exited the premises. Todd smiled to himself, his thoughts turning to Eleanor Lovett. He would see that she would accompany him to the gallows.
Mrs. Lovett had been standing all night. Her aspirations to gentility prevented her from being seated on the floor- it was unmannerly and humiliating. She had persisted for hours, leaning against the corner of the five by eight cell, until finally her legs lost their strength and she sank to the straw covered floor. The heavy door swung open, but she was too exhausted to bother trying for escape. Two burly policemen hurled a large figure through the door. In the darkness, Lovett couldn't make out his face. He scrambled desperately for the door but it slammed heavily before he could reach it.
With a heavy sigh, Todd turned to examine the other occupant of the room. Mrs. Lovett glared at him like a threatened cat from her position in the corner.
"Of course," Todd said with an ironic air. He stalked over to the opposite corner and slid down into it, examining the jail cell with loathing. It was the second time he had been consigned to such a place before trial.
Lovett didn't say anything, but continued to stare, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her arms around them. She pressed her back against the grimy wall and tucked her chin against her arms.
"Well?" Todd demanded, one eyebrow arched.
Mrs. Lovett looked away from him, unusually silent. It irritated him, this lack of reaction. He was used to her loquaciousness. He stood up, and paced the length of the wall, pausing by the barred window.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't strangle the life out of you," he asked dryly.
Lovett shrugged. "They'd hang you without trial."
"True. But you needn't fear, my love," he purred venomously. "I'd really prefer to take you with me to the noose."
Mrs. Lovett narrowed her eyes.
"Oh, you are a brute," she said, her voice weak but tone venomous. "All your talk about vengeance and salvation, trying to make something moral of your plight. All lies. You did it because you liked it."
Todd glared at her for long moments, before speaking up. "And you. Did you not enjoy the deceit? Did you not enjoy the clandestine money and the power? Did you not enjoy usurping her place?"
His teeth were grinding visibly, and Mrs. Lovett cowered against the wall. He crossed the room in one stride and grasped the collar of her dress, shaking her.
"Did you enjoy it, Eleanor?" he spat as she whimpered. "Did you!"
"Yes!" Lovett cried, tears springing to her eyes as she tried to claw his hands from her. Making a sound of disgust low in his throat, Todd released her, shoving her back into the wall. He stalked back to his corner and slid back down to the floor.
Mrs. Lovett stared at the floor though a haze of unshed tears. Her eyes wandered over to the window, which late November snowflakes had just begun to penetrate. The grim cold light fell travelled inch by inch until it fell on her face. She stared at it, a small up welling of fear rising in craven heart.
"Mr. Todd..." she murmured. "What are we going to do?"
Todd looked at her, arching one brow.
"Do? We'll go to trial, where we will surely be convicted. They'll cut off your hair and pull out my teeth before they hang us. After we're dead, they'll cut us open, do experiments on our insides and then send the rest of us to be hung in the gallows as a warning to other barbers and pie makers."
Mrs. Lovett stared at him for a moment, before softly uttering the syllable: "Oh."
Todd rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long night.