Hell Upstairs

[Jikklop Byrne 0]

Yeah, this is my first attempt at a fanfic of any kind, so...

It's a ToddxLovett pairing, and it's really fluffy. Really, really fluffy.

That racket had been going on for a week now. Mrs. Lovett sighed, and gazed up at the ceiling. Dust crumbled from the aging floorboards as the upstairs tenant raged on. “What on earth could be wrong with him?” She wondered helplessly, absent-mindedly swirling the remnants of a tumbler of gin around, “Well, besides the fact that the poor thing is hell-bent on revenge. But he’s not usually so… noisy.”

“Marm?”

A small hand tugged at Mrs. Lovett’s sleeve. “Marm?” The young Tobias repeated. He stood beside her chair in the living room, his face looking more tired than usual. “What is it, Toby dear?” Mrs. Lovett asked, putting a hand on the young boy’s shoulder, “Can’t sleep again?”

He nodded miserably, “Marm, what’s wrong with Mr. Todd? He’s been like this for a week now, and he hardly stops. When he does, he still sounds like he’s pacing up and down, and it’s only for a few hours at the least.”

The tired baker sighed and ruffled her apprentice’s short, unruly hair, “I don’t know, love. I just don’t know. Come on. How ‘bout you have another drink, and I’ll put you back to bed?” Toby nodded silently.

Mrs. Lovett refilled the tumbler in her hand and handed it to the boy, who downed it in two gulps. She lovingly shook her head, “You drink like a bloomin’ sailor, my boy. Going to drink me out of house and home.” She got up and, setting the glass on the coffee table, took Toby’s hand. They went into the smaller of the two bedrooms, which only contained a small bed, a chair and a cupboard. As Toby climbed into the bed, pulling the sheet over him, Mrs. Lovett pulled the chair next to the bed and sat down. “Marm?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Is Mr. Todd going to be alright?”

There was a short silence before Mrs. Lovett’s reply, “I’m sure he will be.”

“Do you think… that you could talk to him?”

Another silence. It’s not like Mrs. Lovett hadn’t thought about it before. But surely that was going to be like a suicide attempt. Telling an angry, moody, murderous barber who is constantly armed with silver razors and who slits the throats of innocent customers like it was completely normal only for them to be made into pies courtesy of the landlady downstairs to calm down wasn’t a particularly attractive prospect. “For goodness sake, he has enough stamina to rant for a week, non-stop.” Mrs. Lovett thought to herself, “But then again, it’s only Mistah Todd…”

“Tell you what, Toby,” She said, running her hand through the boy’s mess of hair, “I’ll talk to him tonight. See what I can do.”

“Marm?”

“Yes, lad?”

“… Be careful. Please.”

“Oh, love,” she scoffed half-convincingly, “It’s only dear Mistah Todd. He’s a gentle thing, really…”

Toby looked at her unbelievingly. “Right, it high time you went to sleep, you little scoundrel.” She stroked his head, humming a quiet lullaby. It didn’t take long for the nightcap to kick in, and soon enough, Toby was in a deep sleep, snoring quietly. Mrs. Lovett sighed, and sat there for a moment longer, gazing at the young lad she called her son. She looked up at the ceiling. Sure enough, the bumping and bashing had reduced to a frustrated, rhythmic pacing.

“Oh Mistah Todd,” She whispered to herself, getting up and dusting herself off, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! What is wrong with me?”

The deranged Mr. Todd raged war within his head; hardly aware of the ruckus he was creating otherwise. “Think of Lucy, think of Johanna… why would I betray dear, sweet Lucy by the ways of Mrs. Lovett? My… accomplice, my associate, my assistant, my landlady… My accomplice who makes sure I am fed every day. My associate who washes my bloodstained shirts. My assistant who held on to my barbershop and razors for years instead of renting and selling them for a rather nice sum. My landlady who rents me a room for free.”

“No! I cannot possess these feelings for her. She isn’t my Lucy, my sweet, golden-haired Lucy. My Lucy with whom I fell in love. Who I had a beautiful child with. Who I am yet to avenge. She is Mrs. Lovett, the landlady who owns a shop downstairs, and which I… assist in running. She isn’t even all that attractive. I mean, the pale, pasty skin, the dark bags surrounding her eyes, the mess of auburn hair atop her head…” Mr. Todd caught the image of his reflection. He stared for a moment before giving a swift kick to his barber’s chair, “Then why these thoughts, these feelings!?”

“It’s not like they’re going to come back.” A tiny, little voice echoed in Mr. Todd’s head, “Lucy is dead after all. As for Johanna… well, only God knows what happened to her. So what’s the issue? You clearly have fallen for another - against your own will, which lasted all of what… six months?”

The angry barber’s eyes widened. That voice was back. “ARGH! For the love of God, GO AWAY!” He sank into the chair as he tore at his long, wild mess of hair, clumps coming out in his hand.

“You just dislike the fact that I am correct.”

“I don’t care! I will not… I will refuse to bow to you this time!”

“There is someone not too far away all too eager and willing to fill that gaping hole in your chest… and that space in your arms. You could have a very content life with her, you know, Mr. Barker. Or shall I say, Mr. T.”

With a roar, the barber shot out of the chair once again and paced to the nearest wall. He pounded his head against it, only hoping that he would pass out. It’d at least solve the slight bout of insomnia.

“Very well, Benjamin. Do it then. End this insanity. A solution lies attached to your belt. You only have to lift your hand.”

Mr. Todd stopped, as if he were in a trance. His left hand brushed against the leather scabbard, which held what he had first thought his only friends. The silver handle was cold against his pale, icy skin.

“There, Benjamin. It’s not hard. You do it again, and again. Day in, and day out.”

The blade slid out easily. Just as easily as it switched out from between the handle parts. It glinted brightly in the hazy moonlight filtering through the window.

“One fluid movement.”

The silver was cold on his neck and in his hand.

“One… two… three…”

Mr. Todd froze again. The blade fell from his hand, bouncing off of his boots and landing with a clatter on the wooden floor.

“Ah. How many times, in the past week, have you been in that situation?”

Mr. Todd couldn’t recall. Everything had melded into one, long, insane night.

“Now, Mr. Barker. How many times have you dropped the razor?” The voice refused to relent.

“The same amount of times… I had held it to my neck.” Mr. Todd murmured.

“Very good. What on earth, pray tell, makes you refuse yourself this very quick, and almost painless solution to everything? It’s hardly your career. You never end up shaving anyone anyway - so to speak. It’s not a child, unless you call that Tobias lad your adopted son. Though, the child’s hardly… disliked by you. He’s not half bad. Is it the revenge, Mr. Barker? Revenge on the great Judge Turpin? The man who supposedly raped and murdered your wife? Who did God knows what to your daughter? That’s understandable, I suppose. But no one, Benjamin, can live on a desire for revenge. No one. No matter how much you refuse to believe me.”

Mr. Todd, for once in a whole week, sank to the ground. He stopped completely.

“Well, well, well. What would that leave? Why, would you look at that. Mrs. Nellie Lovett. The woman who clearly loves you. For goodness’ sake, she cooks, she cleans, she lives for you. She puts up with your Godforsaken tantrums.”

Mr. Todd found himself panting. He was finally taking in the world around him once again.

“But… but Lucy…”

“She’s gone Mr. Todd. Gone. Why don’t you go downstairs, and pay a visit to your dear neighbour? Even as we speak, you miss her. You want to see her again-”

The door rattled and was tentatively pushed open.

“Mistah T?”

Mrs. Lovett peered around the dimly moonlit room. Mr. Todd raised his head.

“Everything alright in ‘ere, love?” She spotted Mr. Todd slumped over next to the wall behind the door. Sighing, she quietly shut the door and sat down beside him. Gently, she pulled his thinning frame upright and held him. What possessed her to do so was beyond her. Generally she would be far too afraid or… he’d have pushed her away by now.

Like a small child, he let her wrap her arms around him as he nestled his face into her neck.

After a few moments, Mrs. Lovett spoke. “Tell you what Mistah T,” she lifted her head off of his, “Let’s go downstairs and pour us a drink-”

A light snore was emitted from the barber. The baker looked at him and sighed lovingly.

“Mistah T, you sook.”

For once, the barber had forgotten about his revenge completely, and the baker could hold him in her arms.

For once, both the barber and the baker were at peace.

Edited 27 Dec 2008 by Jikklop R. H. Byrne (see edit history)

[Negation 1]

[Jikklop Byrne 0]

Yaaay for constructive criticism!

Yeah, most people just told me it was cute, and that it was good. I didn't like it all that much, but someone forced me to write it or she'd feed my soul to her cat. :\

Thanks muchly.

Edited 29 Dec 2008 by Jikklop R. H. Byrne (see edit history)