Ooh I'm doing something I haven't done in a long time... attempting to write a multi-chapter fic. I do have a story figured out and all but I really need your support on this. I know there aren't as many people around as there used to be but please, please give me a chance, take your time to read this and leave me a review.

If you would be interested in more chapters then you shall get them..

Basically this story, much like the movie, is about vengeance... only that dear sweet Eleanor is the one who's slowly losing her mind. Fret not- it's still a Sweenett story, but a pretty dark one. The rating might even go up at some point.

Disclaimer: do I really need to point out that I don't own the material? because I don't.

BLACK HEARTS

chapter one - Mrs Lovett's POV

"I hereby sentence you to be hung by the neck until dead. May the Lord have mercy on your soul."

The final thump of wood on wood as the hammer connected with the stand was like a slap to her pale, tear-stained cheek and Mrs Lovett felt her legs give way beneath her. If not for the strong grip Mr Todd had on her she would surely have fallen to the ground but the barber steadied her, features as unreadable as a stone statue and lacking emotion just as such. What hurt the baker so much was that it wasn't she who was to find her violent end at the rope but her beloved boy, Tobias Ragg, the orphan she had taken in and come to love so dearly. And the lad hadn't even committed a crime; at least she didn't think so. It was only that his dark past had caught up to him and he hadn't been completely honest with her as to how he had come to be Signor Pirelli's assistant. Poor little bugger had fled the workhouse and run straight into the self-named "Italian's" arms, who had given him the choice between the slavery of the workhouse or the job as his personal punching bag. Obviously Toby couldn't have gone back, so the latter it was. Sadly, fortune wasn't on his side and as he'd been out running errands for Mrs Lovett he'd got caught by the director of the workhouse who promptly took him to the Beadle.

And now here they were, helplessly watching as an innocent little boy was being sentenced to death.

For a moment his big eyes met hers, filled with fear and begging for help she knew she should but couldn't provide. It broke her already aching heart, knowing how betrayed the lad felt and yet unable to comfort him. The boy was lead away into his cell where he would remain until his death scheduled for the next day. And Eleanor Lovett would be damned if she couldn't bloody save her little Toby. The entire walk home she was lost in her own world, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened and trying to think of something- anything- that might help the boy. Once back in her shop she went straight to the kitchen, hoping that the familiar mixing of dough was going take her mind off things. She was already roaming around her shelves when the barber dropped down in a booth and heaved a heavy sigh. She looked up at her companion but didn't say a word, which obviously made him uncomfortable. He raised an eye-brow, beckoning her to speak.

Mrs Lovett stayed silent.

For the better part of three hours she kept herself occupied by kneading dough, rolling it out and baking everything from meat-pies to biscuits. It didn't make her feel any better, quite the opposite actually. The tasks made her painfully aware of Toby's absence and more than once she found herself muttering an order before the day's events came rushing back to her. She didn't even register that she was shaking with sobs until the barber pried the rolling pin from her hands and awkwardly enveloped her in a hug. With nothing but pure desperation she clung to him, staining his shirt and vest with her salty tears and he let her, enduring her need for comfort. Once her cries had died down and no new tears would come she abruptly let go of him and stormed out in the direction of her bedchamber. The baker needed to be alone, needed to find a plan, but a sickening gut feeling already told her that it was too late. There wasn't anything she could do, except getting herself hung as well. And maybe that's what she deserved, after all. A slow, painful death by either suffocation or a broken neck, just like her foster son. The metallic taste of blood suddenly filled her mouth as she let go of her bottom lip a little too late. She ran her tongue over the spot where her teeth had parted the flesh and balled her fists, cursing herself for the old habit. When a knock sounded at her door she was tempted to yell a number of curses but just sighed in defeat and dropped back onto her bed. Mr Todd entered silently, his graceful movements reminding her of those of a panther. Deadly yet beautiful. The mattress sank as his weight was added to the bed but she didn't move a muscle to acknowledge his close proximity. Their bodies didn't touch, he made sure of that, and it seemed like an invisible line was effectively keeping them apart. His presence alone was reassuring and soon she felt her eyelids droop, the exhaustion she had overplayed all day finally winning her body over again. Within ten minutes she was out cold.

Mrs Lovett awoke to the expectation of rain and thunder, a weather matching her mood, but instead sun flooded the house as she opened her eyes and somehow this was comforting and devastating at the same time. Comforting because it was a tiny consolation knowing that the last thing Toby saw would be the sun and blue skies, devastating because the weather was a rarity and she would surely never be able to enjoy it again. She noticed that she had slept dreamlessly for hours, fully clothed, and went up to free herself of her corset. Every breath she could get she'd need to survive this day. The regained ability to suck in a sufficient amount of air cleared her head and she finally let her gaze wander to the clock on the wall, regretting it the moment she did.

Tobias Ragg's last hour had struck. Literally.

The horrified scream was never voiced, instead she immediately rushed about the room, gathering a coat and scarf into her arms before she violently collided with Sweeney Todd who had in the meantime also woken up and realized the hour. Without a word he followed her, never more than a step behind as she raced through the crowded streets to where the public executions were held. Her heart somersaulted when she spotted the familiar head of dark hair in a group of five boys, all roughly the same age and without looking back at the barber she pushed through the crowd, a heart-wrecking cry of "Toby" breaking from her lips.

The boy lifted his head but didn't see her until she bumped into him and almost crushed him in a motherly embrace- from which he promptly tried to escape, wiggling his tiny frame out of her arms. Hurt crossed her features but she tried to not let it show and stay neutral. "I'm so sorry, love," she whispered in defeat.

"Y'di'n't even do anything, ma'am. Nothin' at all- just left me ta die."

She knew his words were the truth, still it felt like he was stabbing her with a dagger time and time again. "Nothing, I coulda done, Toby, believe me, if there was I-"

"No," he cut her off, his small fist connecting with her chest, "I'm not him," he nodded into Mr Todd's direction, "him you would've saved in a 'eartbeat, even if it killed ya."

Again she knew the little boy in front of her was right and had to swallow hard, disgusted by herself and her priorities. "Toby, love, I never wanted-"

"Just tell me one thing, Mrs Lovett," he pleaded, "Jus' so I can die in peace."

His blunt phrasing made her cringe, but she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Anything."

"Did 'e do it? Did 'e kill Pirelli?" The boy's gaze went past her, meeting the barber's steely glare.

After a moment's hesitation she just nodded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes and once again she had to bite her already sore lip to keep her composure.

"Guess I 'ave to thank ya for being honest with me for once," Toby said coldly as he looked at her again, straightening up. He looked nothing like a child any more, she realised, instead he was all grown up now.

When the executioner grabbed him by the dirty collar, Toby didn't even flinch, his expression determined as he was shoved up the five steps together with the other boys. The baker was shaking with fear, rage and confusion as she watched in horror how the noose was placed around her boy's neck, how he was mockingly patted on the head before a bag was pulled over it... how the floor dropped away beneath him, leaving a struggling figure fighting with death.

For how long she stood there paralysed by what she had witnessed she didn't know but suddenly she felt a familiar presence next to her and a strong arm found its way around her waist, pulling her away from the scene. Mrs Lovett felt completely numb as she was being navigated through the crowd, hearing the insults spat toward the dead children hanging from the ropes but unable to respond, seeing the smile on the faces of men and women alike but unable to do anything about it. She felt like she was wrapped in wool, all sound dull and her vision not clear.

That was until she saw the Judge.

All of a sudden she felt like she could break free from the mind-numbing blanket of horror that surrounded her and she yanked her arm from the barber's grip to rush up to the oh so respected man of the law.

"'ow the 'ell can you live with yourself?!" She roared furiously, her fingers almost ripping at the fabric of Turpin's coat.

"Mrs Lovett!" he exclaimed in surprise, easily prying her off him and shoving her away before brushing a hand over his clothing as if she had stained it with her mere presence alone.

"'e was only a boy! They all were!"

"Before the law, we're all the same, I'm afraid. And this brute of yours... well, let's just say he's better off in God's hands," a sick grin spread on the Judge's face as he uttered these words and it made her want to kill him but before she could claw his eyes out the Beadle held out his cane in a threatening gesture, effectively stopping her mid-motion.
"I do blame your behaviour on the... difficult situation. But be assured that it won't be tolerated another minute. You can call yourself lucky that I did not sentence you to hang beside that little criminal, after all it was you who provided him shelter while he was on the run. And if this assault goes on I might just have to change my mind."

"Are you threatening me?" Mrs Lovett cried out before she was silenced by a hand she recognised as Mr Todd's covering her mouth from behind.

"No! Dear God no, Mrs Lovett. Threatening you is not at all my intention. I am merely... introducing you to the facts," again that sickening grin turned the Judge's face into a grimace. "Have a nice day." He turned around and walked a couple of steps before facing them once more. "Oh and Mr Todd? I do hope to get around to visiting your Tonsorial Parlour soon. Beadle Bamford has told me only the best." The Beadle, too, smiled disgustingly and the pair disappeared in the crowd.

The baker was fuming with rage, sending a death glare after the Judge and his little lapdog. Mr Todd's hand left her mouth and she all but snarled, her fury needing an outlet to break free. She didn't notice that she was walking until she recognized the first houses of Fleet Street. No tears would come when she was finally in the privacy of her own house again, even though she willed them to flow more than anything, desperate for the emotional release.

Mr Todd left her alone that night but she heard his restless pacing until it was way past midnight. Sleep it seemed would come to neither of them. For a very long time she sat motionlessly on her unmade bed, staring at her shoes until she knew the pattern decorating them by heart. She was terrified of closing her eyes and seeing the day's images come rushing back, and felt eerily empty as if nothing was of importance any more. Toby wasn't the only child she had lost. Contrary to popular belief she had been with child when Albert Lovett had had his heart attack, leaving her and the life growing inside her alone forever. A month later she had bled and even without seeing a doctor she had known that her unborn baby had joined her late husband. It was without doubt to her now that she was simply not meant to be a mother.

"Mrs Lovett?" a velvety voice called her out of her reverie and she realised she was cradling her abdomen as a result of her melancholy.

"Come in, dear," she said weakly. He entered just as silently as the day before, crossed the small room in two large steps and came to a halt next to where she was seated on her mattress. The barber eyed her suspiciously for a minute before clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from her.

"I was wondering... if I could interest you in some food." He spoke in a low murmur and only now did she see that he was holding a plate with the biscuits she had made.

"It's in the middle of the bloody night, Mr T, I don' think that's the best time to eat."

Her sarcasm earned her a dark glare. "Eleanor, you haven't eaten ever since they took the boy away, sooner or later you'll need some food."

His words brought back all her grief and worries at once and it physically hurt her to recall the moment the police officer had dragged her beloved little apprentice out the door, still she snorted disapprovingly at the barber. "May I remind you that you are the expert when it comes to not eating? Since you are still here to lecture me, I think I'll be fine, thank you very much."

The ear shattering sound of porcelain hitting the floor made her jump. Sweeney Todd was no longer next to her but across the room again, his fist violently connecting with the wall. In moments such as this she felt sick with fear but unable to move. His rage was intriguing and terrifying at the same time. In an attempt to calm her racing heartbeat she sat back against the headboard of her bed and pulled her knees up to her chest, closing her eyes.

To her disappointment it had the opposite effect of calming her. The very instant her eyes fell shut she saw a dangling figure hanging from a rope, heard the snickering crowd, felt the Beadle's cane pressed to her chest. Mrs Lovett desperately willed her eyes to open again but to no avail, it was like she was stuck in a nightmare. In her panic she screamed until her throat was sore but no sound , or so it seemed, would leave her lips. She tried to flail her arms to get Mr Todd's attention but her limbs were heavy as lead and it took too much effort to move.

"ELEANOR!"

Her lungs were flooded with air again- she hadn't realised that she'd been holding her breath. She was pinned to the bed by the barber whose eyes were still filled with insanity but showed a faint glimmer of concern. "Wot's 'appened?" she asked shakily, her voice thinner than ever before.

"Goddamnit, you tell me, woman!" Mr Todd exclaimed helplessly, "One moment you act like you're fine and next I hear you bloody screaming as if the Grim Reaper was after you!"

At that moment she desired nothing more than be by herself. "Leave me alone. Please."

The baker could see that her tenant was thinking of ignoring her plea but in the end he left with an annoyed shake of his head, throwing the door shut behind him with a bang. Once again alone with her thoughts Mrs Lovett stared into the flame of the candle on her bedside table and slowly, very slowly indeed, a vicious little idea began to form in her mind. Funny how much things could change in merely a week, she thought to herself, suddenly no emotion left in her being.

She had already become a murderer's accomplice, had studied the barber's countless corpses and watched him "shave" his customers. The razor's sharp blade danced gracefully across the victim's skin before piercing it and more than once had she wondered what it felt like to handle the bodies she so routinely chopped up when they were still living, breathing human beings. The longer she dwelled on these images the clearer became her plan.

For the first time since Sweeney Todd had come back and begun his killing spree for vengeance she understood where his bloodlust came from, could vividly picture the relief it brought. The moment just before death probably came with immense pain and in that very moment the life of whoever had to suffer this murderous madness was off far worse than the murderer himself. Instead of the tears she had been waiting for, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Yes, Mrs Eleanor Lovett had a plan now. The details still needed to be settled, of course, but a goal was set and that goal was to be achieved, even if it was the last she ever did in her petty existence. In a way she had been working on the carrying out of the plan all along, but now that she truly understood the concept of revenge everything was different. She was now different.

The quest was the same. Judge Turpin had to die.

Only she would be the one to kill him.