Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd.


A Happy New Year

It was a quarter to twelve. The pie shop was in darkness, shadows dancing on the walls from the poor street lighting filtering in through the grimy window. Sweeney Todd sighed heavily, drumming his fingers morosely on the sticky table top. He was sitting opposite Mrs. Lovett, who was staring out of the window at the filthy street of London outside. Music could be heard faintly through the walls, an undoubtedly raucous sound if it was listened to from the doorway. Mrs. Lovett squinted, craning her neck to watch the rousing parties taking place outside the pub on the corner of Fleet Street. It always amazed Sweeney to see how this woman, who did not bat an eye at his murderous thirst and cut up the dead bodies for him, could watch the celebrations taking place outside with such wide-eyed innocence.

"If you really want," he said in a low voice, breaking the silence which had stretched on for a good while now, "go out and join in the bloody festivities. Just stop bloody huffing every five seconds."

Mrs. Lovett raised her eyebrows sceptically. It actually surprised Sweeney to see that the baker—usually so irritatingly chatty—could keep quiet for any length of time. "In case you 'aven't noticed, love, that's a bit difficult for me at the moment."

She shifted her gaze pointedly to her lap, which Toby was sprawled across. His mouth was open; the lad was snoring quietly, his hands fisted in the folds of his mum's skirts. They'd been sitting in the dark for well over an hour now, waiting for the magical moment a New Year brought. It was Toby's first ever New Year with a proper family, he'd told Nellie earlier that day, and he'd wanted to wait up and see it begin with his mum. However, the day had been a particularly gruelling one, with never a moment to pause for breath, and it was taking its toll now—once he'd sat in the comforting darkness with his mum's warm weight against him and a half-full tumbler of gin clutched in his fingers, Toby had been unable to fight off the temptation of sleep for long.

Todd shook his head and reached for his own tumbler of gin. He let the clear liquid burn a path down his throat, relishing the numbing sensation it brought with it. This was the first New Year's Eve he had spent in civilised company in fifteen years. Mrs. Lovett might be irritating at times, but he preferred to sit with her in the pie shop than be alone in his tonsorial parlour. Any other time of the year would not bother him, but this day brought back memories of the past; fleeting recollections of Lucy sitting by the window with him, hands resting gently on her round stomach as she gazed at Benjamin with glowing, adoring eyes. Christmas and the New Year had been Barker's favourite time. He'd loved to lavish his wife with gifts that he'd been saving up for for months. In contrast, needless to say, Todd hated it. It reminded him all too clearly of a time where he'd been much more content—a time which no longer existed. That was why he'd accepted Mrs. Lovett's invitation to stay with her and the boy for the evening. Anything was better than being chained to his barber chair by the rotting hands of the ghosts in his past.

Nellie watched him out of the corner of her eye, inwardly sighing. She knew that look anywhere—that dark, brooding one. He was no longer seeing the pie shop. He'd left her to be with Lucy, or with the judge. She hated it when she lost him like that. He'd never been hers, not really, but it did not stop a wave of relentless sorrow from washing her away. How she longed to be the subject of his thoughts. She'd been yearning the same thing for the past sixteen years.

It would never happen.

So she did the only thing she could to wrench him back to the present, to her.

She talked. She wasn't even sure if her words were reaching him, but it made herself feel better. She liked to hear the sound of her own voice. Spending fifteen years in her own company with no one to talk to had given her the habit of thinking aloud at all times. It helped to keep the dreadful silence at bay. She talked about everything and nothing: the business she'd done in the shop today; the supposed affair between Mrs. Brown and Mr. Carter, two inhabitants who lived just around the corner from Fleet Street; how little Toby was growing up fast, and what a dear he was for being willing to help her out when he could be out with his friends, playing in the park…

Todd grunted at intervals whenever she paused for breath, but she still couldn't say if he was listening or not. He would glance at her every so often as though he was taking in some of what she said…but well, this was Mr. Todd, wasn't it? No one ever knew what was going on inside that head of his.

Nellie exhaled noisily, and propped her chin in her hand. She'd run out of things to say for now. Burying the feelings of disappointment at his lack of a real response deep within her heart, she switched her gaze to the party outside again. Nellie Lovett should be used to rejection by now.

She watched the couples outside dancing merrily, laughing and red-faced as they waltzed a little drunkenly on the pavement. That was where she'd like to be. Out there, with the wind caressing her face and Mr. Todd on her arm, the two of them dancing the night away, sharing a kiss as the New Year opened…

Why was she feeling so melancholy today?

Sweeney heard another sigh escape her lips as she gazed with longing at the festivities outside. He rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth to stop himself from saying something scathing. He knew as well as anyone that Nellie Lovett was not content just sitting there doing nothing. She was constantly in motion, whether it was serving customers or moving deftly around her work surfaces making pies.

Another sigh, another roll of his eyes. Neither of them spoke; the silence stretched creeping fingers through the darkness to bind them. The ticking of the clock was the only thing strong enough to penetrate the air.

"Mr. T?" Nellie said abruptly. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

A half-hearted growl.

Taking it as an invite to continue, she said, "'Ave…'ave you ever thought about what you're gonna do when your revenge is complete?"

Todd raised his eyes to glare at her. "Should I?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, dear. Was just wondering, is all. We won't…" She paused. "We won't be able to stay around 'ere, you know. Too many suspicions will be raised on everyone. We'll 'ave to move away. Somewhere safe, where no one can find us."

Todd did not respond. How could he ever do that? This was where he'd been brought up; these filthy streets with the smoke which smothered the sky, this city where he had met his beautiful Lucy for the first time. How could he just move away from everything which connected him to his old life?

As though sensing his thoughts, Mrs. Lovett began to speak again, her eyes softening.

"Life is for the alive, my dear," she whispered, drinking in his features in the moonlight. His skin was paler than ever, the moon lending him an ethereal, milky tone. In contrast, his eyes were almost black, his jet hair falling in tangles around his face. The white shock which tore through it was more prominent than ever. "'S no use dwellin' too much on somethin'. I know how ya feel about your Lucy…but none of this is gonna bring 'er back. She's gone, love."

At any other time, that sort of talk would have made Sweeney Todd fly into a rage, would have made him pin the baker to the wall with a razor to her throat. It would've made him snarl at her, fling about any words which he knew would hurt her. No one was permitted to talk about his yellow haired angel like that.

But he was so tired. He was so tired of seeing the judge everywhere he looked, and though he was loath to admit it…he hated seeing reminders of Barker wherever he went. The man was dead, but his ghost clutched at Todd with tenacious fingers, determined to drag him to Hell. Everyone he had ever known had abandoned him. Benjamin Barker had been too weak to survive in Australia. Lucy had taken arsenic. She hadn't the strength to wait for her husband to return. And Johanna…Johanna would never know who he was.

Everyone had abandoned him.

Apart from one woman, a woman with tangled fiery hair, pale skin and dark eyes.

Mrs. Lovett had been there all along.

The air between them seemed to thicken, the atmosphere becoming heavy. Sweeney could hardly breathe, the oxygen he craved for filtering thinly through his lungs. He could see nothing but her large eyes. They stared right into him.

"Life is for the alive," he echoed, his voice somewhat hoarser than normal, the statement more like a question, asking, begging, someone to find him.

Mrs. Lovett had.

And suddenly she was leaning in towards him. Or was he the one doing the leaning? He could feel her warm breath teasing his lips as she stopped barely an inch away from him. One small hand ran soothingly up his arm to rest on his shoulder. The other tangled itself in his messy black hair. Her eyes, impossibly dark, stared into his with such adoration. The gap between them shrank—

The clock chimed twelve.

And, just like that, the spell was broken.

Sweeney Todd turned his head away at once, internally berating himself. What had he almost done? Howcould he almost have done it? He loved Lucy! What he felt for the baker, if anything, was certainly not love…his dear Lucy

"Well, 'ere it is, Mr. Todd!" Nellie said as gleefully as she could, blushing a delicate shade of pink as she tugged her arms away from his stoic form, consequently shattering his thoughts. Sweeney acknowledged her with a grunt, not allowing the confusion he felt to cloud his face. What had that been about?

He never had the chance to ask her though; she'd turned away from him and was currently shaking Toby's shoulder.

"Love," she whispered through the darkness, "love, it's the New Year!"

The boy stirred blearily at her voice, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to his surroundings. Then he sat up immediately as his mum's words registered.

"'Appy New Year, Mum!" he cried, surprising her by throwing his arms around her neck and kissing her cheek. "I

can't believe it's 'ere!"

"Neither can I, darlin'," Nellie grinned, squeezing the boy tightly. "'Ere's to many more together, eh?"

Outside, the fire crackers had started. Loud bangs and mesmerising colours spilled across the street, painting it like a canvas. Toby pulled away from Nellie to peer with delight at the sight. Mr. Todd had already stood up, and was peering with a vague disinterest at the display.

"Do you want to get a closer look, dear?" Nellie asked, noticing how longing Toby's gaze was.

"Can I, Mum?" the boy said in delight, eyes shining. "I'm not tired anymore, an' I'll only be a couple of minutes, I promise!"

"Go'n then, son," she smiled, ruffling his hair.

He wriggled across her lap to plant his feet on the floor. He shot off as fast as he could, banging the door open and leaving the tinkling bell in his wake.

Realising that she was alone with Mr. Todd again, Nellie smiled somewhat coyly and whispered, "'Appy New Year, Mr. T."

Todd inclined his head in silent acknowledgement of her words, and with a sigh, Nellie stood too, slipping over to stand by the infuriating man's side. They watched the antics of the Londoners outside quietly, although Nellie wasn't really seeing them. She was lost in her thoughts, thoughts which, ultimately, revolved around Sweeney Todd. Just how did one recognise a New Year with the person who hated any sign of affection? A kiss on the mouth, however much she herself desired it, was out of the question—he'd probably kill her on the spot for being too forward. A handshake was too formal, and didn't hold any hope for the future. And a hug was probably asking for trouble too—Sweeney Todd did not do hugs.

Which left only one thing really, and that was as risky as the others.

Shrugging anyway, Nellie laid a gentle hand on the barber's fraying coat. He glanced in her direction, and she took the opportunity to slip in front of him, not quite blocking his view of the window.

"'The New Year's 'ere, Mr. T," she whispered again, standing on her tiptoes so her words were muffled against his ear.

Her hot breath tickled him, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine, one which Todd was quick to stamp out. And then she did something completely unexpected. She pressed her mouth to the underside of his jaw.

Sweeney froze.

Nellie's eyes drifted shut as she inhaled his scent; musky cologne and the soap she'd left in his bathroom. It made a heady combination, and it was all she could do to not lift her head and kiss him immediately. At last she pulled away from him, her lips reluctantly leaving the pounding pulse she could feel there.

Grinning wickedly, she laid her head on his arm and said, "Just a little New Year's gift, Mr. Todd. I feel bad fer not giving ya anythin' for Christmas…'Appy New Year, love."

"Happy New Year, Mrs. Lovett," the barber reiterated, turning away to hide the faint blush he could feel spilling over the bridge of his nose. He was so pale even the slightest of flushes was noticeable, though why he was flushing he would never know. The skin where she'd kissed him burned satisfyingly.

Nellie smiled knowingly and switched her gaze to watch Toby through the window. The boy had made it the party goers, and was standing enraptured amongst them as they cheered and clapped along with the bangs.

"What a year it's been, eh?" she mused, casting Todd a sidelong look. "'S been a strange one at that, but

I've enjoyed it all the same. 'Aven't you, Mr. Todd?"

He grunted in reply, something which could have been a yes or a no. Nellie chose the former for him.

"Course, it ain't gonna be easy from now on, is it? You 'ave the judge to get rid of, an' I've got a lot of work to do in this 'ere shop…but maybe, maybe one day we can leave it behind us. I'm not sayin' straight away—that would be too suspicious, anyway—an' I'm not sayin' it 'as to be anywhere by the sea, but I do think a change in scenery sometime will do us both the world o' good…"

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney said gruffly. "Shut up."

She fell silent at once, but she wasn't offended; the barber had laid an awkward hand on her arm. The gesture filled her with hope. Perhaps she wasn't being silly dreaming about such fancies. Perhaps, one day, it would happen the way she wanted. She was a patient woman. She could wait. Hadn't she done so for the past fifteen years? What were a few more months in comparison?

In any case, Mrs. Eleanor Todd had a very nice ring to it.