Ensnared Chapter 1: The Fight, a sweeney todd fanfic

Chapter 1: The Fight

"Nice to see you, dearie; how 'ave you been keeping?" "Toby! One for the gentlemen!" "Yes, yes, yes−'God, that's good! Knock on wood!'" "Must 'ave been one of them foreigners!" "Toby! Throw the ol' woman out…"

…a Mrs. Eleanor 'Nellie' Lovett would constantly beckon as she worked dreary night after dreary night at her now famous, and not to mention booming, Meat Pie Emporium at 186 Fleet Street. Customers would flock like sheep to be shorn to her shop when the dinner rush began. Luckily for Mrs. Lovett, 'fresh supplies' were always present−there was always some dolt who would waltz up those stairs to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlour (and then never back down those very same stairs again!).

Yes, she couldn't be happier. Or could she? Mrs. Lovett would often ponder to herself. Sure, she was finally prospering with her business as she always dreamed. She would say that the worst pies in London had metamorphosed into the best ones. Yes, she should be happy or at least content with her life. It was hard times, yet she was flourishing with business above all the rest! Mrs. Mooney, whom Mrs. Lovett considered a rival (although the two had only met on occasion here and there), was now penniless: poor thing! It seemed for Mrs. Lovett that she had no competition. She should be happy. Especially since she was a woman in these times, for God's sake! No mere woman should be making it by like Mrs. Lovett was. All women were expected to be the simple housewife, not an arduous worker like herself. They all had a loving and adoring husband to look after them! And that's when it hit her:

Mrs. Lovett had no such husband, or at least not anymore. Just a languished demon barber that stayed in his shop all day, brooding away on his wrongs about what happened heaven knows how many years ago. He hardly paid a pennies worth of attention to her, unless of course it was because he wanted something or they were scheming about their 'respectable' business.

Oh! How she loved that demon with all her being! She smiled at the thought of Sweeney Todd as she and Toby were cleaning the tables on the outside of the shop. She would do absolutely anything for him (even skin his customers and bake them into pies) in a squeamish hope that he would somehow return her love. However much she desired and wished with all her heart that Mr. Todd would love her back and they could retreat to the seaside, Mrs. Lovett knew deep down that was all just wishful thinking. Sweeney Todd would never forget about his wife and would never forgive that bloody old judge. If only he would stop thinking about his blasted revenge! Good God! His thoughts on revenge and nothing but revenge would just be the end of her one day! Mrs. Lovett's smile turned to a frown at that thought.

"Mum! You're gonna scrape all the paint of the table!"

Mrs. Lovett rapidly focused her attention to the lad that helped her run her shop, Toby, her adoptive son. She hadn't realized it but she started to scrub the table rather profusely whilst amidst all her thoughts about Sweeney Todd.

"Sorry, love," she chuckled a bit.

"Is something the matter, mum?" Toby was worried for Mrs. Lovett. Something seemed to be drawing heavily on her mind that cold, January evening.

"Not a' all, dearie." She looked at Toby, a smile sprawled on her face. Yes, she was lying but she only did so to prevent Toby from his worrying; he seemed to do that an awful lot lately.

"Look mum! It snowed last night!" Toby yelled, probably waking up nearly half of Fleet Street. He was the first to rise (at precisely 7 o'clock, despite the fact he had once again consumed half a bottle of gin to lull himself to sleep). He had jaunted into the shop to make sure it was clean for Mrs. Lovett when a sea of white foam caught his eyes. He ran merrily to the window and gaped in pure awe. After shutting his mouth and wiping the drool off his chin, Toby ran as fast as his little legs could carry him into Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. He nearly pounced onto her in an attempt to wake her up.

"T-Toby? What's all this shouting for? It snows all the time! Go back to bed, lad!" Mrs. Lovett complained than rolled over away from Toby.

"But it snowed!" He was relentless. Why was the snow so damn important to him right now? Mrs. Lovett sat up in her bed to scrutinize the boy. He looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Toby, dear. Why is you making all this fuss ovah some simple snow?" She yawned, ready to fall back asleep.

"Well…you see mum, when I was back with Pirelli…well, 'e didn't let me play in no snow like all the other boys my age got to. I was always kept locked away in the dark! I'm just a bit excited. Ya see, it's like me first snow and I was wondering…would it be alright for me to go play outside in it?" he wearily asked with the plead in his eyes growing ever so wider. Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile and felt a twinge of sadness emanating from the boy.

"Of course you can, Toby dear," she ruffled his hair and motioned for him to get a move on.

"But mum, you'll come and play with me, right?"

"Oh Toby, love. It's only seven in the morning."

"Puh-lease!?"

"Oh, alright!" Mrs. Lovett hastily got out of bed and shooed Toby away so she could get dressed.

Toby was waiting for her when she emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later.

Mrs. Lovett sported one of her dresses but also wore a jacket, a black scarf, and some leather gloves (with the fingers still on). Toby had his usual work clothes and a jacket on. Then, they were bounding out the door.

"So, what shall we do first, eh?" Mrs. Lovett cheerily said with her hands on her hips, eyeing Toby. The boy had nearly dropped dead from the sight of the freshly fallen snow. He was frozen (and not because it was too cold). She nudged him to bring Toby out of his stupor.

"Umm…I…don't know….what CAN we do?"

"What a silly thing ya is, boy! Come on!" Mrs. Lovett dragged Toby by the arm to the middle of the snow covered street, right in front of her shop, where Mr. Todd's window overlooked.

"What are we gonna do, mum?"

"We are going to build a snowman!" Mrs. Lovett squealed with joy.

"Cool, mum!" And the two began collecting snow and shoveling it in mounds to initiate the process of making a man out of snow. After about an hour, their snowman−or at least what appeared to be one−was ultimately finished!

"Well…that sure is….something," Mrs. Lovett said all the while eyeing their 'masterpiece' in content.

"I think it's brilliant!" Toby said, "Now what?"

"I take it you've never had a snowball fight?"

"You're on, mum!" Toby immediately started scooping up snow into his hands; Mrs. Lovett did the very same. And the fight was on!

Unbeknownst to the loving mother and her adoptive son, someone was watching their crazy antics. But not just any someone, but a certain demon barber: a Mr. Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street. He had awoken to the sound of laughter and frolicking, much to his dismay. Oh well, he needed to get up and begin pacing. He waltzed over to his usual window pane to stare into oblivion. Yes, there sure was no place like London. Oh, and snow. There was lots of snow. Mr. Todd, rather than looking off into the distance, looked down and into the foreground, to where Mrs. Lovett and Toby were engaged in a heated (or frozen?) snowball fight. Mrs. Lovett had the upper hand, probably from being more agile and lighter on her feet than the meddling boy. Sweeney chuckled: Mrs. Lovett had just snowballed Toby square in his face. He then abruptly composed himself after having ridiculously laughed at such a petty thing and resumed his needless staring. He didn't know how long he had starred, but…..

SMACK!

Did that really just happen? The hell….

Did Mrs. Lovett just throw a snowball at his window, exactly where Sweeney Todd was standing behind, right where his face would have been if the glass were not there?

"Ya see Toby dear: I told ya I could hit 'im!" Mrs. Lovett casually boasted.

"Cool, mum!"

"Of course, dearie," she nonchalantly said. The two had stopped their fight when Toby had noticed Mr. Todd at his window ("Like usual," Mrs. Lovett sarcastically announced). She bragged that she was able to throw a snowball that high so she used Mr. Todd as a target.

"Let's get inside and warm ya bones," she said taking note of the now shivering (not to mention drenched) Toby.

If only she could see the look now plastered on Mr. Todd's face right then and there….it wasn't a look of pure anger or even joy for that matter. No. He had on a mask of something like "did that really just happen?" Perhaps he was confused. The look on Sweeney Todd's face was merely completely out of character. What just 'appened?

Toby was now snuggled in a woolen blanket on the sofa in Mrs. Lovett's lovely back parlour. She had just handed him a nice tot of the hottest hot chocolate around. Mrs. Lovett was just about to plop down beside the boy when she heard someone calling her name from the shop:

"Mrs. Lovett!" It was Mr. Todd. What the bloody hell did he want? He never came downstairs, especially that early in the morning.

"Mrs. Lovett! Come here!" He demanded, although in a much nicer way than he normally would have.

"Coming!" Well, of course she would beckon if he called; she was Mrs. Lovett and he was Mr. Todd after all.

When she walked into her shop, Mrs. Lovett didn't see him so she figured he was in the outside, garden part of her shop. She opened the door to go outside:

"Wha' is it, love…."

PLOP!

No. That could not have happened. No. Mr. Todd did not really just throw a snowball at Mrs. Lovett's face. That's absurd! No one in their right mind could have seen that coming, especially the baker. Her face nearly matched the one Mr. Todd donned nearly five minutes ago. All of this was merely priceless (not to mention unpredictable).

"I believe you will know exactly what that was for, Mrs. Lovett. And now that I have had my…revenge…" he pivoted on his heals to head back up to his shop. He was nearly halfway up the stairs when:

SMACK!

Again? That blasted woman!

"Well, I guess you could say tha' was me revenge for you getting your revenge!" She puffed out, all the while grinning rather ridiculously.

Mr. Todd slowly turned back around to look down at the baker. He knew exactly where this was going…but for some bizarre reason, he didn't stop himself from the rather childish act…

He scooped some snow off the railing, in both his hands, clamped them together to form a profusely large snowball, all the while waltzing down the stairs towards Mrs. Lovett. He also bore a grin that was much too silly for a man such as himself. However, it was a grin of pure devilishness: he was going to rather enjoy throwing that snowball at her. He quickened his pace…

But Mrs. Lovett had already turned around and bolted down Fleet Street…

She was running out of breathe, more from laughing at the fact that Sweeney Todd was actually provoking a snowball fight with her than anything else.

She ran down the street until she noticed an alley in her peripheral vision. She instantly darted into it and waited. She waited knowing that soon Mr. Todd would be running down that very same street ready to pelt her with that snowball. Mr. Todd would keep running forward thinking Mrs. Lovett was still jaunting up ahead. Then, she would emerge from her hiding place and hit him instead from the behind. She started on making the snowball. Mr. Todd would be there…just…about…now:

PLOP!

Mrs. Lovett couldn't believe it. She did not actually hit her target, Mr. Sweeney Todd. No. She did not in the slightest.

He hit her.

"Now now, Mrs. Lovett, you didn't actually think I was dimwitted enough to fall for that one, my dear?" Mr. Todd mockingly said. He was right behind Mrs. Lovett. Apparently he had indeed seen her turn the corner into the alley but decided to sneak up on her from behind. Bloody man….

"Don't patronize me, Mr. T."

"And why not?" He grinned coyly at her, stepping closer.

"Because, as I recall, you are now out of ammo…"

Mrs. Lovett catapulted the snowball out of her arm and….

SMACK!

…right into Mr. Todd's smug face!

And Mrs. Lovett began the game of Cat and Mouse once again!

This time, Mrs. Lovett thought to herself, she would get him for sure. She kept running down Fleet Street eventually making her way to St. Dunstan's Square. But she hardly noticed as she grazed past dreary Londoners (the very same that she would probably bake into her meat pies one day soon) and the various kiosks. She also never once turned around to see if Mr. Todd was still hot on her trail. No. In truth, she was actually a bit frightened to turn. Perhaps it was the simple adrenaline rush from trying to outwit her "attacker" while running through the busting London streets, or because he was simply the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. She hadn't the foggiest idea and quite frankly, she was too in a daze to even think about it.

Mr. Todd, on the other hand, was indeed "hot on her trail." From the moment Mrs. Lovett had bolted off yet again, he took off as well. Unfortunately, he did have to painfully admit to himself that Mrs. Lovett was indeed much faster than him. She was soon much ahead of him in the bustling market where Pirelli's stand had been those couple of months ago. He stopped right as he was about to venture further into the square.

No. She was much too quick for him and also maneuvered much more easily than he did through the crowd. I wonder what all these fools must be thinking seeing a grown man chasing a grown woman through the streets….they probably think I am hunting her down or something. Sweeney chuckled to himself at that thought. Even though that is what it appeared he was doing, he highly doubted any vermin in these once familiar streets would do anything to help the apparently "in-danger" woman. Oh well. He had another way to get back at Mrs. Lovett…

Sweeney rounded a corner that lead to another street. That street in turn lead to another corner, which lead to another street and so on, until finally he was exactly where he wanted to be.

It was a sort of short cut that led to the other side of St. Dunstan's. Mrs. Lovett would surely be arriving at any moment now:

"AHHHHH!" A high pitched shrill emanated though his ears.

It emanated from a Mrs. Eleanor Lovett who just so happened to be struggling to escape from Mr. Todd's grasp. Yes. He had indeed pounced on her from the shadows.

"Mr. T!" She was relieved it was only him who now had her in a firm hold, with his arms wrapped securely around her waist. However, she was mad that he seemed to be winning this little charade of their. "Let me go! That's cheatin'!"

"No it ain't. I believe "cheatin'" would be…running away shall we say, yes?" He whispered in her ear, mocking her yet again. She tensed as his breathe hit her neck. It was a tension of pure delight, however. Mrs. Lovett turned to look Mr. Todd right in the face, eyes locking in an intense gaze.

"Fine," she muttered very much like a child ruefully accepting her punishment. "You win."

"Not yet, Mrs. Lovett. The fight has yet to begun."

"Yet to begun?" Did she hear him right? So all the running was meaningless? The snowball fight hadn't actually commenced yet? A voice broke her train of thought:

"Come now, pet. Start making, as you put it, "ammo." We'll wage war right here!" He let her go. Never before had Mrs. Lovett seen Mr. Todd like this; maybe she had seen Benjamin Barker like so, but that man was dead now. Mr. Todd just seemed so…lively…and not to mention happy, if that were even possible or plausible.

Although the odd couple had not the slightest idea as to where they were (other than London of course) at present, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd actually stood in Hyde Park. It was covered head to toe, from the tallest tree to the smallest shrub, from the hilliest of hills to the smoothest of leveled ground, in white, translucent snow.

"You're on."

The two immediately began their childish game of a childish snowball fight (well, childish for Todd but seemingly normal for Lovett).

SMACK!

PLOP!

SMACK!

PLOP!

SMACK!

Snowballs flew from left to right, right to left. Almost nearly all of them hit their target, whether that being Mrs. Lovett or Mr. Todd. It was almost another one of their villainous dances as they treaded through the snowy park, twirling in an attempt to dodge a snowball, although not a single dodge seemed successful.

PLOP!

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I give up, Mr. T! You win!"

Mrs. Lovett was now drenched from head to foot in snow, her hair had long ago fallen from her pins. Mr. Todd appeared to have quite the aim and throwing arm. He was only about half as soaked as she was, standing a good twenty feet to the left of where she stood now. Yet he started to walk towards her, still with snow in both his hands. He was grinning that grin again.

"Now Mr. T, we mustn't act too 'asty or rash, I said you was the winner fair and square, no need for more snow in me face," Mrs. Lovett half-heartedly joked slowly backing up to avoid the inevitable snow Mr. Todd was going to throw one last time at her.

Mr. Todd took longer strides towards Mrs. Lovett and was almost face to face with her, his arms slowly rising from his sides, inching ever so closer to her. He was just about the lather the snow across her cheeks like he would sometimes do to his customers when, all of a sudden, he lost hold of his footing and stumbled.

Yes. Sweeney Todd tripped right then and there and stumbled into Mrs. Lovett. This caused the two to fall down the hill in Hyde Park, cascading down it intertwined with one another until finally they reached the smooth, flat surface of the terrain.

They lay on their backs in the cold snow with their arms sprawled out as if they were about to make snow angels. Mr. Todd was the first to get to his knees. He looked over at Mrs. Lovett who still lay there, with her eyes closed and a frown on her face, her lips appearing to turn a purplish-blue at that very moment probably from frostbite since she no longer wore her coat or gloves for that matter. Sweeney felt a rush of…well…something…come over him…what was it?

Worry. Sweeney Todd felt worry. Not just any worry, but worry for a certain baker two feet away from him.

He crawled over to Mrs. Lovett and hovered his head just above her face, looking down at her with worry written on his face. Unbeknownst to him, his lips too were bitten with that purplish-blue frost. Her eyes then fluttered open:

"Mr. T., I said you won. No need to push me ovah the hill and inta the snow, love."

He just continued looking down at her. For once, his eyes weren't filled with the lust for revenge. No. Just concern for the now weary baker.

"I…I tripped. I didn't push you."

"Sure ya didn't, dearie," she closed her eyes again.

The next thing Mrs. Lovett could even register, she was being hoisted up out of the snow by two very firm arms that belonged to none other than Sweeney Todd.

"I win, though," he smirked as he started to carry her back up the hill, back through St. Dunstan's Square, back down Fleet Street, and back into her lovely back parlour where Toby slept nestled cozily in the woolen blanket on the sofa.

For once in her life, Nellie Lovett was silent. Silent as the grave (or in the case of this story, the pies she made that symbolized graves) as Mr. Todd placed her gently on her favourite armchair.

The next thing she knew, Mrs. Lovett saw Mr. Todd unravel the blanket Toby had from underneath the boy and draped it over her.

"Mr. Todd!"

"What?"

"That was Toby's! Poor thing is probably freezin' now all thanks to you!" She sneered at his lack of compassion for the boy. However, that frown soon turned upside down at Mr. Todd's next remark:

"I like you better than him."

And he walked off, probably back to his barber shop to continue his useless plotting and start his brooding all over again.

But for an instant Nellie thought she heard some compassion in his voice…compassion for her….well, excusing the way he said it of course. Maybe, just maybe, Sweeney Todd loved her, Nellie hoped with all her heart. He said he liked her at least, again, forgetting how he said it. He was after all implying that he liked her. Maybe, just maybe…and Nellie drifted off to sleep, once again mesmerized by her fantasies of her and her Mr. T.

Meanwhile….

…the only thing that Mr. T. was thinking about was one simple question:

Did I really just have a snowball fight with Mrs. Lovett?