Sweeney Todd #32: Abducted
Title: And She Would Fall; Chapter Two: Rescue
[find chapter one here]
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Nellie Lovett and Judge Turpin
Prompt: #32 Abducted
Word Count: 2,356
Rating: T
Summar Three separate evenings in which Nellie Lovett breaks into Judge Turpin's home. Two evenings in which she is kicked out. One evening in which she stays. Turpin/Nellie with smudges of Sweeney/Nellie and Ben/Nellie.
Disclaimer: All I own is a computer.
Nellie Lovett was not a thief.
Were an outsider to observe her current stance - feet planted upon a doorstep so firmly not even the wrath of God could budge her, shoulders hunched to her ears, hands fidgeting rapidly at the lock with a hair pin - they likely would have assumed that she was. But that was not true. One could only be a thief if they took what did not belong to them.
And what she was after was already hers. Or should have been, at least, were it not currently housed elsewhere.
Once the lock was successfully jimmied open, she wedged herself inside and shut the door on a soundless breath. Darkness enveloped her. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and eventually began to make out vague shapes: sweeping arches for doorways; an elaborate chandelier above her head; a looming spiral staircase. So this was the great Judge Turpin's house. She'd never been effluent enough to be invited over; the one instance that she had invited herself over six months ago, she had snuck through the parlor window rather than the front door, and thus didn't have time to properly appreciate the scenery. Since then, Turpin had apparently gone through great lengths to ensure that each and every one of his windows was latched properly before he retired for the evening. Not that it mattered: Nellie Lovett was certainly not uncreative enough to need to pull the precise same stunt twice in a row. She could pick a lock just as well as she could slip through a window.
Now . . . where would it be? Unfamiliar with the layout of the manor, she hadn't the faintest idea where to begin. And judging from the exterior of the place, navigating its twists and turns would be no easy feat. Especially with miles and miles of darkness seeped in front of her. If only she didn't have to sneak into the home, if only she did not have to play the role of a -
N He s the thief. Not her. Nellie might have had some moments of her past that she was not proud of, but never would she be considered a common criminal. How lusterless. How shameful.
Likely it would be on one of the upper levels, she reasoned, and with hands carefully stretched in front of her lest her eyes fail to discern a bit of furniture, she started towards the staircase.
Mercifully, the steps did not squeak as hers were so prone to. One of the many benefits of being part of the upper class: being able to afford inconspicuous, unsqueaking stairs.
Now's not the time for jealousy, Lovett. Just find it and leave.
Expecting another stair, her feet tripped over air for a moment when she reached the landing, and she toppled forward, catching herself against the wall. She froze, cursing affluently in her mind, but she heard not a sound: Turpin was a sound sleeper, apparently. Another mercy granted her. It was high time: these were the first granted her in the dry spell of an eternity.
She pulled away from the wall and treaded forward. There were far too many rooms up here. She had no idea how she would ever locate the right one, but, well, there was really only one way to go about it:
Wrapping her fingers around the nearest doorknob, heart clapping in time to her thoughts &ndas what if it's not this one, what if a servant's in here, or Turpin himself, don't panic, don't panic, it'll be fine, what if Turpin, oh shit dash; Nellie nudged open a door only far enough to peer inside with one eye.
The room was empty save for a wide bookcase and three cushy armchairs.
Softly as she could, Nellie pulled the door shut and ventured on. The next door was merely another entrance to the previous room; the third led to a washroom; the fourth to an empty bedroom; the fifth to another empty bedroom -
Her blood solidified, crippling her body of all movement.
This bedroom wasn't empty. Turpin was in the bed.
Her eyes swept over his shadowed form: the eyelids relaxed over the eyeballs, the imprecise half-curve of the mouth, the even rise and fall of his chest beneath the satin blanket. She had never visualized a sleeping Judge Turpin; she had never imagined that a person who thrived upon control and action could be inactive, dormant, not in possession of anything but a relaxed face, a soft surrender to anything but himself.
She jerked her head to pull herself back to reality and closed the door, continuing down the hallway and approaching the room next to his. For surely, if Turpin slept in there, he would keep what he had stolen close by -
She opened the door upon a spacious room that contained only an expansive window filtering moonlight upon the floor and a single speck of furniture: a cradle cut from cherrywood.
All thoughts of keeping quiet forgotten, Nellie raced forward and yanked aside the curtains covering the crib.
The baby whimpered at being so suddenly and harshly exposed to the bright moonlight - but when those cornflower blue eyes found Nellie's, her tiny lips flourished in a grin of recognition.
"Oh, love," Nellie breathed, and scooped Johanna into her arms, balancing the little girl upon her hip. Johanna cuddled against Nellie's shoulder, linking her fingers through Nellie's curls, still grinning crookedly and revealing eleven pearly white teeth. Nellie's heart cramped: last time she'd seen Johanna, she'd had ten teeth.
"I'm so sorry, Jo," she intoned in a voice less than a whisper. "I shouldn't have never let him take you - I tried to stop him - you saw me, I tried, I did . . ."
Her apologies seemed to be wasted: Johanna continued smiling and playing with Nellie's hair without fail, only happy to be returned to the arms of the last person who cared about her. The last person still completely sane and still within ten thousand miles who cared about her, that was.
Nellie secured Johanna in her arms. "But it doesn't matter now . . . 'cause you and me, Jo, we're going to run away - "
As though understanding her words, Johanna tugged more urgently at Nellie's locks.
"Not forever, darling, don't you worry . . . London's our home. Just for a little while. Just long enough to find a judge outside of the city what actually does his job and doles out justice rather than shit - pardon me, love, I meant - erm - nonsense. Once we find ourselves one of those, we'll drag him back to London, have him restore order, return your father to London, and force Turpin and his lackeys to either drown themselves or stick their heads in boiling vats of oil."
"Abbah boo dee - " Johanna cooed, pulling still more insistently at Nellie's hair, and then Nellie understood.
"Shhhhh," Nellie whispered, smoothing the girl's blonde locks back from her forehead. "Hush, love. That's all we can hope for. Ain't nothing to be done for your mother." Her eyes darkened. "Ain't nothing should be done either - she abandoned you, Jo, the minute she swallowed that arsenic - she doesn't deserve your pity or love any longer."
Johanna silenced, but her smile was gone.
Nellie bit her lip: did the girl actually understand what she was saying? Or were her reactions to Nellie's words mere coincidences?
The ones who dwell in misery always have to learn about the world faster than the naïvely happy do . . .
Swallowing, Nellie picked up the blanket inside the crib and swaddled Johanna inside its fleece. "Alrighty, Jo - you ready?"
The blue eyes solemnly blinked at her.
Nellie grinned, pressed a kiss to Johanna's forehead, and turned around to exit the room -
Her blood cemented in her veins again and forced her body to a halt. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind refused to accept the defeat of a battle she had worked for so hard and waited for so long and yearned for so earnestly, a battle she could not accept defeat for this time, not this time, there must be a path that did not lead to defeat -
In her arms, Johanna began to cry.
"Leaving so soon, Mrs. Lovett?" Judge Turpin asked from the doorway, in a congenial tone more appropriate for conversation between friends over wine than between enemies in the midst of a theft. "But I have not even properly welcomed you to my humble abode. And wouldn't you like a tour before you depart?"
"Move," said Nellie, when her blood had resumed its flow and her voice had been found, softly clucking to Johanna in a feeble attempt to quiet her sobs.
Even cloaked in the shadows, out of reach of the moonlight, his lift of one eyebrow could not be missed. "I can't even tempt you to admire the silverware? I have quite the collection."
"Just let me pass, Turpin," she growled.
A flash of whiteness against the dark: a smile more invitation than threat, but still one that curdled her blood. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you hold all the cards in this situation, my dear. Whatever gave you this idea?"
"My apologie my lord," Nellie sneered before she could stop herself; Turpin's eyebrow raised further and Johanna sobbed in her ear.
Mockery is not the way to get out of this alive, Lovett.
Pushing the smirk off her face, she continued, "Listen - just let me leave with the girl - what d'you want her for anyhow, she'd just be a burden - you don't know how to care for a child - "
"And you do?" Turpin inquired in a manner that epitomized polite society, his teeth bared in a travesty of a smile. "I beg your pardon, but how many children have you expected and lost? Five times now - yes, I do believe I've seen you strolling the streets with your corset strings loosened for five different occasions - isn't that correct?"
Don't get riled, don't react, that's what he wants . . .
"I'll take care of her," said Nellie, "and I'll do it well, and at no cost to you - you'll never hear from either of us again, I swear it - "
"Not until you boil that vat of oil to stick my head in, at least," he drawled.
"Please," Nellie began to grovel, growing crazed with desperation, biting her lip and clutching the bawling Johanna tighter against her, "just let me take the girl - she's lost both her parents, don't make her lose her home too - "
Turpin swept from the doorway inside the room and came to a halt mere inches away from where she stood, towering above her, the moments of soft slumber long gone from the hardened face. His eyes smoldered with rage that the former shadows had veiled but that the moonlight laid bare. Nellie gripped Johanna so firmly she lost feeling in her arms.
"Do not pretend this is about the girl, Mrs. Lovett," said Turpin levelly, his voice far more adept at concealing what his gaze could not. Johanna's sobs increased in volume, but Turpin did not trouble to raise his voice. "We both know that the best possible scenario for her is to grow up here under the watch of someone who can actually afford to - "
"I can afford what she needs just fine - "
" - and under the watch of someone who trulycares for her - "
"How dare you," said Nellie, trembling with fury, Johanna's wails and the pounding in her head driving her voice to raise its volume, "how dare you - I care for her far more than you' ev be able - "
"For her, Mrs. Lovett? You care for her? Or for the man whose blood courses through her veins?"
"Don't you - of course I care for - for her - she's like my own daughter, she is - for months while Lucy lied in bed, I took care of her - for her - "
"And it's she whom you are worried about losing her home?" Turpin continued, as though he had not heard. "It's she that you are worried about everyone she loves abandoning her? Not you?"
"You bastard - "
Taking advantage of her grip that had gone slack from fury, his hands leapt from his sides and wrenched Johanna away from her. Blind with rage, Nellie lunged towards him, arms outstretched and fingers poised like claws to snatch, rip, harm, whatever she needed to do to be with the daughter that should have been hers, to hold the last tangible bit of Benjamin Barker in her hands -
"Stop," rpin hissed. In stark contrast to the din in the room before, all neared silent now: Nellie's shouts died in her throat, and Johanna's cries silenced as he held her. "Do not forget who you are, or who I am - or how simple it would be for my hand to address a letter to Botany Bay requesting a hanging."
Nellie swallowed a cry and retreated, body sagging, eyes flying over Turpin's features, searching frantically for any sort of crack in his armor, any chance of she still taking Johanna. He gazed back at her, face impassive, eyes glinting.
Her gaze turned next to Johanna. Johanna merely looked right back at Nellie from Turpin's arms, not bawling, not accepting, not fighting. Just looking.
Swallowing, Nellie took a step towards Turpin.
He pulled away from her at once, words "do not try my patience" on his lips, but she cut him off, her voice listless: "I just want to say good-bye to Johanna."
He eyed her skeptically, but nodded his consent. Not that she was going to wait for his consent anyway: her feet were already pushing forward, closing the gap between she and the child, heedless of everything but for this one final salvo before her second defeat in this battle.
She grasped Johanna's face between her palms, eyes stinging. "Good-bye, Jo," she whispered.
Johanna's lips parted in a last grin.
Nellie pushed Johanna's hair away from her eyes, kissed her forehead, and departed.
[find chapter one here]
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Nellie Lovett and Judge Turpin
Prompt: #32 Abducted
Word Count: 2,356
Rating: T
Summar Three separate evenings in which Nellie Lovett breaks into Judge Turpin's home. Two evenings in which she is kicked out. One evening in which she stays. Turpin/Nellie with smudges of Sweeney/Nellie and Ben/Nellie.
Disclaimer: All I own is a computer.
Nellie Lovett was not a thief.
Were an outsider to observe her current stance - feet planted upon a doorstep so firmly not even the wrath of God could budge her, shoulders hunched to her ears, hands fidgeting rapidly at the lock with a hair pin - they likely would have assumed that she was. But that was not true. One could only be a thief if they took what did not belong to them.
And what she was after was already hers. Or should have been, at least, were it not currently housed elsewhere.
Once the lock was successfully jimmied open, she wedged herself inside and shut the door on a soundless breath. Darkness enveloped her. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and eventually began to make out vague shapes: sweeping arches for doorways; an elaborate chandelier above her head; a looming spiral staircase. So this was the great Judge Turpin's house. She'd never been effluent enough to be invited over; the one instance that she had invited herself over six months ago, she had snuck through the parlor window rather than the front door, and thus didn't have time to properly appreciate the scenery. Since then, Turpin had apparently gone through great lengths to ensure that each and every one of his windows was latched properly before he retired for the evening. Not that it mattered: Nellie Lovett was certainly not uncreative enough to need to pull the precise same stunt twice in a row. She could pick a lock just as well as she could slip through a window.
Now . . . where would it be? Unfamiliar with the layout of the manor, she hadn't the faintest idea where to begin. And judging from the exterior of the place, navigating its twists and turns would be no easy feat. Especially with miles and miles of darkness seeped in front of her. If only she didn't have to sneak into the home, if only she did not have to play the role of a -
N He s the thief. Not her. Nellie might have had some moments of her past that she was not proud of, but never would she be considered a common criminal. How lusterless. How shameful.
Likely it would be on one of the upper levels, she reasoned, and with hands carefully stretched in front of her lest her eyes fail to discern a bit of furniture, she started towards the staircase.
Mercifully, the steps did not squeak as hers were so prone to. One of the many benefits of being part of the upper class: being able to afford inconspicuous, unsqueaking stairs.
Now's not the time for jealousy, Lovett. Just find it and leave.
Expecting another stair, her feet tripped over air for a moment when she reached the landing, and she toppled forward, catching herself against the wall. She froze, cursing affluently in her mind, but she heard not a sound: Turpin was a sound sleeper, apparently. Another mercy granted her. It was high time: these were the first granted her in the dry spell of an eternity.
She pulled away from the wall and treaded forward. There were far too many rooms up here. She had no idea how she would ever locate the right one, but, well, there was really only one way to go about it:
Wrapping her fingers around the nearest doorknob, heart clapping in time to her thoughts &ndas what if it's not this one, what if a servant's in here, or Turpin himself, don't panic, don't panic, it'll be fine, what if Turpin, oh shit dash; Nellie nudged open a door only far enough to peer inside with one eye.
The room was empty save for a wide bookcase and three cushy armchairs.
Softly as she could, Nellie pulled the door shut and ventured on. The next door was merely another entrance to the previous room; the third led to a washroom; the fourth to an empty bedroom; the fifth to another empty bedroom -
Her blood solidified, crippling her body of all movement.
This bedroom wasn't empty. Turpin was in the bed.
Her eyes swept over his shadowed form: the eyelids relaxed over the eyeballs, the imprecise half-curve of the mouth, the even rise and fall of his chest beneath the satin blanket. She had never visualized a sleeping Judge Turpin; she had never imagined that a person who thrived upon control and action could be inactive, dormant, not in possession of anything but a relaxed face, a soft surrender to anything but himself.
She jerked her head to pull herself back to reality and closed the door, continuing down the hallway and approaching the room next to his. For surely, if Turpin slept in there, he would keep what he had stolen close by -
She opened the door upon a spacious room that contained only an expansive window filtering moonlight upon the floor and a single speck of furniture: a cradle cut from cherrywood.
All thoughts of keeping quiet forgotten, Nellie raced forward and yanked aside the curtains covering the crib.
The baby whimpered at being so suddenly and harshly exposed to the bright moonlight - but when those cornflower blue eyes found Nellie's, her tiny lips flourished in a grin of recognition.
"Oh, love," Nellie breathed, and scooped Johanna into her arms, balancing the little girl upon her hip. Johanna cuddled against Nellie's shoulder, linking her fingers through Nellie's curls, still grinning crookedly and revealing eleven pearly white teeth. Nellie's heart cramped: last time she'd seen Johanna, she'd had ten teeth.
"I'm so sorry, Jo," she intoned in a voice less than a whisper. "I shouldn't have never let him take you - I tried to stop him - you saw me, I tried, I did . . ."
Her apologies seemed to be wasted: Johanna continued smiling and playing with Nellie's hair without fail, only happy to be returned to the arms of the last person who cared about her. The last person still completely sane and still within ten thousand miles who cared about her, that was.
Nellie secured Johanna in her arms. "But it doesn't matter now . . . 'cause you and me, Jo, we're going to run away - "
As though understanding her words, Johanna tugged more urgently at Nellie's locks.
"Not forever, darling, don't you worry . . . London's our home. Just for a little while. Just long enough to find a judge outside of the city what actually does his job and doles out justice rather than shit - pardon me, love, I meant - erm - nonsense. Once we find ourselves one of those, we'll drag him back to London, have him restore order, return your father to London, and force Turpin and his lackeys to either drown themselves or stick their heads in boiling vats of oil."
"Abbah boo dee - " Johanna cooed, pulling still more insistently at Nellie's hair, and then Nellie understood.
"Shhhhh," Nellie whispered, smoothing the girl's blonde locks back from her forehead. "Hush, love. That's all we can hope for. Ain't nothing to be done for your mother." Her eyes darkened. "Ain't nothing should be done either - she abandoned you, Jo, the minute she swallowed that arsenic - she doesn't deserve your pity or love any longer."
Johanna silenced, but her smile was gone.
Nellie bit her lip: did the girl actually understand what she was saying? Or were her reactions to Nellie's words mere coincidences?
The ones who dwell in misery always have to learn about the world faster than the naïvely happy do . . .
Swallowing, Nellie picked up the blanket inside the crib and swaddled Johanna inside its fleece. "Alrighty, Jo - you ready?"
The blue eyes solemnly blinked at her.
Nellie grinned, pressed a kiss to Johanna's forehead, and turned around to exit the room -
Her blood cemented in her veins again and forced her body to a halt. Her breath caught in her throat and her mind refused to accept the defeat of a battle she had worked for so hard and waited for so long and yearned for so earnestly, a battle she could not accept defeat for this time, not this time, there must be a path that did not lead to defeat -
In her arms, Johanna began to cry.
"Leaving so soon, Mrs. Lovett?" Judge Turpin asked from the doorway, in a congenial tone more appropriate for conversation between friends over wine than between enemies in the midst of a theft. "But I have not even properly welcomed you to my humble abode. And wouldn't you like a tour before you depart?"
"Move," said Nellie, when her blood had resumed its flow and her voice had been found, softly clucking to Johanna in a feeble attempt to quiet her sobs.
Even cloaked in the shadows, out of reach of the moonlight, his lift of one eyebrow could not be missed. "I can't even tempt you to admire the silverware? I have quite the collection."
"Just let me pass, Turpin," she growled.
A flash of whiteness against the dark: a smile more invitation than threat, but still one that curdled her blood. "You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you hold all the cards in this situation, my dear. Whatever gave you this idea?"
"My apologie my lord," Nellie sneered before she could stop herself; Turpin's eyebrow raised further and Johanna sobbed in her ear.
Mockery is not the way to get out of this alive, Lovett.
Pushing the smirk off her face, she continued, "Listen - just let me leave with the girl - what d'you want her for anyhow, she'd just be a burden - you don't know how to care for a child - "
"And you do?" Turpin inquired in a manner that epitomized polite society, his teeth bared in a travesty of a smile. "I beg your pardon, but how many children have you expected and lost? Five times now - yes, I do believe I've seen you strolling the streets with your corset strings loosened for five different occasions - isn't that correct?"
Don't get riled, don't react, that's what he wants . . .
"I'll take care of her," said Nellie, "and I'll do it well, and at no cost to you - you'll never hear from either of us again, I swear it - "
"Not until you boil that vat of oil to stick my head in, at least," he drawled.
"Please," Nellie began to grovel, growing crazed with desperation, biting her lip and clutching the bawling Johanna tighter against her, "just let me take the girl - she's lost both her parents, don't make her lose her home too - "
Turpin swept from the doorway inside the room and came to a halt mere inches away from where she stood, towering above her, the moments of soft slumber long gone from the hardened face. His eyes smoldered with rage that the former shadows had veiled but that the moonlight laid bare. Nellie gripped Johanna so firmly she lost feeling in her arms.
"Do not pretend this is about the girl, Mrs. Lovett," said Turpin levelly, his voice far more adept at concealing what his gaze could not. Johanna's sobs increased in volume, but Turpin did not trouble to raise his voice. "We both know that the best possible scenario for her is to grow up here under the watch of someone who can actually afford to - "
"I can afford what she needs just fine - "
" - and under the watch of someone who trulycares for her - "
"How dare you," said Nellie, trembling with fury, Johanna's wails and the pounding in her head driving her voice to raise its volume, "how dare you - I care for her far more than you' ev be able - "
"For her, Mrs. Lovett? You care for her? Or for the man whose blood courses through her veins?"
"Don't you - of course I care for - for her - she's like my own daughter, she is - for months while Lucy lied in bed, I took care of her - for her - "
"And it's she whom you are worried about losing her home?" Turpin continued, as though he had not heard. "It's she that you are worried about everyone she loves abandoning her? Not you?"
"You bastard - "
Taking advantage of her grip that had gone slack from fury, his hands leapt from his sides and wrenched Johanna away from her. Blind with rage, Nellie lunged towards him, arms outstretched and fingers poised like claws to snatch, rip, harm, whatever she needed to do to be with the daughter that should have been hers, to hold the last tangible bit of Benjamin Barker in her hands -
"Stop," rpin hissed. In stark contrast to the din in the room before, all neared silent now: Nellie's shouts died in her throat, and Johanna's cries silenced as he held her. "Do not forget who you are, or who I am - or how simple it would be for my hand to address a letter to Botany Bay requesting a hanging."
Nellie swallowed a cry and retreated, body sagging, eyes flying over Turpin's features, searching frantically for any sort of crack in his armor, any chance of she still taking Johanna. He gazed back at her, face impassive, eyes glinting.
Her gaze turned next to Johanna. Johanna merely looked right back at Nellie from Turpin's arms, not bawling, not accepting, not fighting. Just looking.
Swallowing, Nellie took a step towards Turpin.
He pulled away from her at once, words "do not try my patience" on his lips, but she cut him off, her voice listless: "I just want to say good-bye to Johanna."
He eyed her skeptically, but nodded his consent. Not that she was going to wait for his consent anyway: her feet were already pushing forward, closing the gap between she and the child, heedless of everything but for this one final salvo before her second defeat in this battle.
She grasped Johanna's face between her palms, eyes stinging. "Good-bye, Jo," she whispered.
Johanna's lips parted in a last grin.
Nellie pushed Johanna's hair away from her eyes, kissed her forehead, and departed.