Archive of Our Own ^beta

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He had always noticed something off about her. From the way she would chant to herself after a bad customer interaction, to her crazed state every month, coincidentally every full moon. He doesn’t know why he even remembers this, he doesn’t care about her, barely pays attention to her when she speaks. He didn’t notice when she spent hours on end in the kitchen, but only seemed to come out with one or two batches of pies. Nor did he notice the way she swayed her hips, no, not the bounce of her hair, or her crooked smile when he would compliment her. Nothing of the sort. Anyway it didn’t matter now, because she was dead. Thrown in the very same oven she burned countless other sinners. How ironic.

However, as Sweeney bent over his Lucy, cradling her head and whispering sweet nothings in her very cold ear, there was a crack-A booming pop-then another. And another. Louder and louder each time, it soon became impossible to ignore. Sweeney gazed up from his hunch position. The oven’s flames swirled around, growing ever bigger. The door of the oven burst open and the flames spilled out, spreading only to the middle of the room. Then stopped. The swirling continued once more and in seconds The Demon Barber gazed into a scorching inferno. Fire licked at his skin. It grew twice its size every three seconds. Sweeney gazed into the gates of hell, excepting his fate. Yet, as he tugged Lucy tighter, closed his eyes, and took one finale breath in. A cackle broke through the air. Sweeney snapped his eyes open. What stood before him now was proof that he had truly died and gone to hell: Nellie Lovett.

“My, you really thought that would work, dear?”

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His throat was raw, eyes itchy and puffy, hands shaking too intensely to do anything useful with them, and now….now he was in utter petrification. Staring up at his own personalized hell. He had imagined death to be slightly more painful; however, Sweeney had felt nothing when he died. Not even the relief of fire scorching his skin.

She was no longer laughing. Now all she did was gaze down at him with a pitting smile. How he detested her. Sweeney couldn’t bear the silence anything longer, how unusual it was that he was the one to be uncomfortable in silence. It was typically when he thrived. Yet something about Mrs. Lovetts silence didn’t sit right with him.

“Is this hell?” His voice was gruff, barely audible. All she did was laugh.

She laugh for a very long. It grated his hears, his temper rising with every ear-piercing cackle.

“ANSWER ME” He roared.

Nellie stopped immediately with a small gasp and a hand placed over her heart. For a split second she had Sweeney convinced he had truly scared her. Until her mouth, slowly, widened into a smile, and she dropped her hand back down. Cocking her head to the side her smiles turned pitiful once more. It almost made him scream with contempt.

“Now, dear, is that any way to treat the recently departed?” Mrs. Lovett chuckled at her own joke but promptly turned serious. “No. You’re not dead.”

She took a long breath in and strode toward Sweeney. Kneeling in front of him she placed her hand in his cheek, he would have flinched away, if not for the gentle warmth he touch always brought- even in the darkest of moments- even now. Her features grew softer as well as her voice.

“This, however, is absolutely hell.”

Then everything went black.

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Sweeney awoke in a cold sweat, like usual; however, he had gotten used to Nellie immediately lulling him back to sleep, or at least a sense of calm. This time he was not comforted. Instead, his back ached and there was a dull throb in his head. Opening his eyes Sweeney gazed into the night sky. Slowly, he sat up. Nellie stood a few feet ahead of him, back turned. Her head was upturned, she was seemingly basking in the moonlight. Her skin illuminated, glowing. Her red hair shined brighter than he’d ever seen. The inferno, once more, flashed before his eyes. Red, hot, and searing.

He snapped himself out of it just in time to notice Nellie turning around, gazing down at him. The moon, placed directly behind her, haloed her head. Skin shining and paler than ever. It was…intoxicating. It overwhelmed Sweeney too much. He looked away swiftly, something boiling deep in his chest.

“Had to move us to the alleyway to blocks over. Wasn’t safe enough to stay the shop. We should start walking now, coppers won’t take long to follow.” She spoke slowly, a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.

This new Mrs. Lovett was troublesome. She was colder, more distant, at times she even looked at Sweeney with…disdain -no- hate. As they trudge to the near by train station she refused to walk in front of him. Once they got on a train, its destination as far away from London as possible, they sat in the far back. She positioned herself across from him, she seemed to make sure he never left the line of sight. It irked him how she no longer harbored undying love for him; though, at the same time, his respect for her had never been greater. He did try to kill her, after all.

In front of him lied a brochure, might as well kill some time. He picked up the brochure and examined it thoroughly.

Paris, France: The City of Love.

Read through it, memorizing it. If they were to live here, he might as well get information about it, wherever he can. A thought occurred to him then. Why was Nellie still traveling with him? She had every chance to leave, yet she was the one leading them.

Then, an even more puzzling thought came to him: He didn’t entirely mind.

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The train ride had been uneventful at best. Sweeney seemed entirely too comfortable with nothing to do, silence was his forte, yet Nellie couldn’t handle it. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She hated him for what he did, but, god, she missed him like a little kid. She wouldn’t give in. She was better than that. He had tried to kill her, and that was unforgivable. So why was she still here? More importantly, why was he still here. He could have left at anytime, yet, he didn’t. In fact, he seemed almost willing to follow her.

Mrs. Lovett risked a glance over at him. His sharp features were even more pronounced in the moonlight; however, now the sun was starting to rise. It illuminated his eyes in way that made her breath hitch. Her stomach churned at the thought of still being in love with him. It made no sense, well, nothing about her life really made sense. This was just on brand.

She itched to speak to him. It would be so easy to fall back into conversation with him. If you could even call what they did conversation. More like her talking and him grunting. Either way, she missed it. But she couldn’t -wouldn’t- talk to him. To talk would be to give him power. And she refused to give him that power again. She was in control now. Nellie forced herself to look out the window.

The rolling hills tumbled by, and the running rivers ran fast. Soon they were in a mess of green and orange. Trees blinking the rising sun. A burst of wind ripped through the leaves, throwing them off their branches and having them dance in the air. They swirled and swayed, creating a mix of reds and oranges against the light blue of the sky. Autumn was upon them. It was Nellie’s favorite season. The crisp wind and crunchy leaves put a permanent smile on her face. Plus it was the perfect season for a nice hot pie after a long day of work. It was the busiest time of year, right next to winter.

She would typically keep herself busy by thinking about what Sweeney would like, but she’s been doing that for the past 15 years, so there’s not much else to wonder. Instead she kept herself busy by thinking about their-her next move. Sweeney was just following, he can leave whenever. She has to watch out for herself.

Especially now that he knows.

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The train ride was scheduled to reach Paris, France in the next eleven hours or so. To Sweeney this was no problem. He would simply plan his next move. But as the train ride drew on his mind wandered to darker places. He had thrown her into the oven, how was she here, sitting next to him, now?

BANG

Sweeney was thrown back to the present. He jolted up right and swung his head from side to side looking for the supposed danger. He spotted the three cops sauntering in the front of the cabin.

The one with the sheriff badge stepped forward, addressing the room. “Everyone remain calm.” His voice was gravely and his scruff of beard was grey, clearly he wasn’t new. “There is a murderer on board this train, multiple in fact.”

Across him Sweeney could see Mrs. Lovett tensing. He longed to go over and comfort her. He then remembered what happened just a few hours ago.

Murmurs started to arise around the cabin. Names of famous murderers we’re bounced around as fast as a roomer in grade school. The Sheriff silenced them by reaching in his coat pocket, grabbing out a folding paper. He unfolded it and presented it to the room. Spinning slowly to show each and every person the paper.

Gasps echoed, women and men alike seemed well aware of the monsters on the page. Being at the back of the train meant they were the last to be seen and the last to see the paper. Slowly every head turned their way, until the Sheriff faced them. Sweeney and Mrs. Lovett were now face to face with themselves. When the Sheriff saw them he immediately drew his gun, his two goonies followed suit.

He heard the baker mutter something. Then, the sheriff dropped his gun, like he’d been burned by it. Mrs. Lovett took that opportunity to jump up and grab Sweeney’s hand, pulling him along with her. They bolted to the cabin door. Bullets rang out behind them but Sweeney kept focus on the task at hand. Survive. Outside the door there was only a slim walkway between the cabins. If they wanted to survive they couldn’t stay on this train.

“We have to jump.” Sweeney exclaimed.

Mrs. Lovett started to say something but Sweeney didn’t have time to wait for an answer. He hastily wrapped his arms around her and dove into the forest.

The sticks and thorns scratched his skin as they tumbled down a hill. He heard a crack and felt his left shoulder burn. Then-

Whack

Black.

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Chapter 6:

He felt the soothing sensation first, a sharp pain, then soothing once more. Blinking his eyes open it took him a moment to remember what had happened, and where he was. Once reminded of his current situation Sweeney jolted upright. Beside him Mrs. Lovett jerked back. He snapped his head to look at her. The fall had roused her hair, making it fall from its usual messy updo. Sticks and leaves poked out. The hem of her dress was cut and scraped but it look at if she had no damage done to her skin. Observing this Sweeney look at himself as well. He perfectly fine. Where he had expected to find bruises he found smooth, untouched skin. He moved his left shoulder expecting to feel some sort of pain. Nothing. He was fine. Great, actually.

His gaze rose to find Mrs. Lovetts once more. She was already looking at him, though she quickly looked away, clearly ashamed at being caught. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

“We should get moving.”

She stood quickly, placing her hands on her hips.

“Headn’ north from where we are now it would take us about a week to reach Paris, including sleep, bathroom and food breaks, and any extra rest time we would need to take.”

Mrs. Lovett looked back down at him and from the morning light shone on her skin, hitting her eyes just right, she truly looked angelic. Her eyes met his and the spell was broken. He stood, staying silent. It was safer this way. Otherwise he might let something go that he desperately needed to hold onto.

Sweeney started walking without waiting for her.

“Wait, Mr. T! Where are you going? We need to find someplace to get actual directions.”

He didn’t stop, because he could hear her footsteps follow behind.

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It’d been several hours since they’d jumped off that train, and had yet to reach a town or any civilization at all. Not even a fellow traveler. Night began to fall, the sun set low in the sky. Casting everything with a golden hue.

Sweeney kept a quick pace for as long as he could. Yet, now, as dusk settled in, his legs felt as if they been swallowed up by the inferno of that night. Every bone ached, begging to rest. His mind, however, refused to give in. He would not been seen as weak in the face of her. He would longer grant her that luxury.

Exhaustion nipped at his eyes, hunger bit his stomach, and without a word his body screamed in agony.

“Why don’t we take a break ‘ere?”

He whirled around to se Mrs. Lovett already sitting against a tree. She smiled gently up at him and patted the space beside her

“C’mon, love.”

“No” Sweeney clipped.

He couldn’t sit. Not now, not with her. Unfortunately for Sweeney, Mrs. Lovett, wasn’t taking no for an answer. She fixed him with a knowing look. Her expression, then, started to alter, little by little, almost teasingly. Her eyes went wide, mouth forming into a small pout, and face angled downwards while she looked up at him. Mrs. Lovett looked like a kicked puppy. Sweeney knew what her plan was, she was trying to guilt him. And dammit it was working.

It always did. During their brief, peaceful time together she would always pull that exact expression to get him to do what ever she wanted.

It was late at night, half past eleven he’d assume, when he felt a kick in his side, then another. He threw himself around to glare back at the offender.

“Stop.” Sweeney demanded.

Mrs. Lovett made a sort of groaning whine and mumbled something unintelligible.

“What?” He snapped, growing more annoyed by the second. He rarely ever got sleep, and unfortunately the only time he could was when he was with her.

He felt her shift and then she was lighting a candle. She looked back at him, leaning on her elbows.

“Can you grab me a glass o’ water?”

Her accent was much more pronounced when she was tired. It was quite endearing, so endearing Sweeney took much longer to process the question. Once he did he could feel his irritation rising once more. He had half a mind to march back up to his shop right now. Before he could, she started to pout. Mrs. Lovett looked up at him through her lashes, pouting. Sweeney rolled his eyes and, with a grunt, pushed himself off the bed.

He came back with two glasses. Sweeney sat with her as they drank together. This was one of the rare time Nellie wasn’t talking, he noted. Finishing first she placed her cup on the nightstand and Sweeney watched as she eased herself back down. She glanced up at him with a smile.

“G’night, Sweeney.”

Sweeney growled in annoyance but complied. Finally letting his body rest. His back against the tree wasn’t comforting in the least, at this point, though, he couldn’t care less. He would fall asleep right there, yet there was one thing that itched at the back of his mind.

“You haven’t talked.”

Mrs. Lovett’s eyes found him, he looked away.

“Wot do you mean? I just asked you to sit didn’ I?”

Sweeney could tell she was trying to dodge the topic. She knew what he meant, she was scared.

“Fine.” He rose without warning and began to walk away.