"You lied to me."

Nellie Lovett had the strange urge to sing. Yes, she had lied, but it would all be okay, now. She just had to make him understand her reasons. And although a song had never failed her before, she now felt that maybe the best thing to do would be to put it into words.

"I killed her. My Lucy. She's dead because you lied. It's all YOUR FAULT!"

"Darling, love! Listen, please!"

"NO!"

"This isn't Lucy!"

He paused. Then the stone came to life, but it was still cold.

"No. This is my Lucy. I would know my angel anywhere. Those are her eyes. Her nose. Her beautiful lips..."

"Mr. T, that is her body, it is true. But the person you killed, the REAL person inside was not your wife."

"How dare you suggest that?"

"It's the truth, I swear, let me explain!"

All of the sudden, Sweeney had a different look in his eyes; the fire and turned to glass.

"Mr. T?"

But he did not speak. Instead he grabbed her waist and began to twirl her around the room, singing of forgiveness and being alive. And maybe if his actions hadn't been so sudden, she would have believed him.

Nellie Lovett was not dumb. Something was up.

She did not plead or confess her undying love. She just did what she knew best.

She talked.

She rambled on and on, explaining why and how things had really happened, and she did not fall into his trap. However, he was deaf to her words and his singing and spinning continued.

She saw it.

His eyes: the way they widened then squinted. She had seen that look before.

Sweeney was ready to kill.

Her feet, so surely planted on the ground, were now spinning through the air. Her stringy hair slapped the sides of her neck. Her skirts filled with air, she flipped halfway upside down, and she felt heat on her back. Sweeney's hands gripped hers tightly, firmly, confidently.

Then he let go.

She was engulfed by the flames.

The fire was hungry; it bit her skin, chewed her hair, and refused to let go. The pain swallowed all reason and sensibility. Yet the pain of her love was far stronger.

She felt her voice rising in her throat, ready to shout. But it wasn't a cry of pain that burst out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Sweeney."

He stared at the burning woman with sorrowful eyes.

But what was the true cause of his longing?

Nellie was losing feeling. Her hands covered her head, skin becoming red and flaky, yet her tearful face was shielded from the blaze. However, most of the flames ate at her skirts and avoided her skin that was wet with perspiration and tears.

The smoke. The smoke that had almost given them away. Deadly. IT was killing her, not the fire. Her breathing slowed, she sank further to her knees, her hair flying in a mess of flames, smoke, and heat. She could not feel, could not hear.

Until...

There was a yell. Then footsteps. Then a firm hand on her back, another under her legs, lifting her, rescuing her from the flames.

Toby. It must be Toby, she thought. She wished he would put her back.

She tried to tell him to throw her into the iron oven again, but only a strangled cry issued itself from her mouth. The hands patted her skin. Then hair. Then clothes. And somehow she opened her eyes.

Her boy was not to be seen. Only Sweeney, slapping out the fire that ate at him, too.

She was on her shaky legs, running to him. Her arms were outstretched; she leaped forward; he caught her.

They kissed.

Oh, Sweeney, she thought as he returned it with just as much passion. Could it be true? Do you really care?

Then the kiss was done, and a razor was to her throat.

"Why?" His eyes no longer held revenge, just sadness and ... fear?

"What, love?" she asked, trembling.

"What did you mean by it? How was Lucy no longer Lucy? Please..." The razor was lowered. His voice was gruff, yet he sounded like a lost boy. "Please. I need the answers."

"Okay, love! Calm down!" She gripped his hands tightly and he did not pull them away, yet he looked with curiosity. "Your hands..."

"Don't worry dear, I've burned meself worse before. I'll explain everything. See, what I said was partially true. Your wife took the arsenic."

"She couldn't have; she wasn't dead," he mumbled.

"She did, darling, please, let me finish me story. Lucy took the arsenic, it's true, but it wasn't enough to kill 'er. Made 'er insane, it did. She became that... thing. Beggar. And not just that love, didn't just innocently ask for alms. Prostitute."

"No... NO! She wouldn't! Would she?"

"T'wasn't 'er fault dear. Well, I suppose it was, for takin' the poison. But she wasn't sane. Messed up in the 'ead now."

"But to sell her beautiful body, just for money? Mrs. Lovett, couldn't you do anything?"

"I tried, dear, I really did. But she didn't want me help. Refused the money, she did. And she didn't just sell 'erself, love. GAVE her body 'way. Free of charge. Ev'ry now and then she just wanted to have some fun with a man."

"Did she remember you?"

"What? No, dear, she could never remember anything. She would pretend. You know, go up to strangers and ask, 'Hey, don't I know you, mistah?' Try to get another 'dance.' But she recognized no faces. Not from before she took it, not even people she met after. Mind was mush."

"Then it's true. She really wasn't there anymore."

"Uh huh. In a way, she was dead."

He looked down, fiddling with something in his hands. Then, the razor was against her neck again.

"Now love, is this really necessary? I'll answer anything, I will! Razor or not!"

He hesitated and lowered his arm.

"What about the Judge? What did he really do? Don't dare sugarcoat it. I want the real story."

"Exactly what I told you love, no less, no more. 'E wasn't even that rough wit' 'er, she told me 'erself."

"Why, then? Why would she do it, then? She knew I could come back someday. Why did she attempt suicide?"

"Not sure, meself, dear. Just not strong enough to cope, I suppose. Never very strong, she depended on you."

"And what about you?"

"What, love?"

The blade was out again, but not pressed to her throat.

"When I came here, I promised I would never attach myself to a person again. These razors would be my life. Revenge. But Mrs. Lovett, YOU were there to give them to me. To offer me a home. To... care... for me. Why? If you truly loved me as much as you say, why didn't you take poison, too?"

She looked into his eyes. Pure black, so dark, but she could see. Curiosity, pain, weariness, and... love? Maybe. She wasn't sure.

"'M not sure I know meself, love. Maybe it was because I always 'oped you was going ta find your way back 'ere to me someday. Can't say I never thought about it. I saw your wife without a care in the world, and I wanted that, too. But I couldn't bring meself to do it. Possibly because of Johanna as well..."

"My daughter?"

"Yeah. See, after she took the poison and all, I wasn't sure what to do with the child. I didn't know where she would end up. So, I just 'ad to keep 'er. Raised 'er like me own. Then the Judge found out. I tried to stop 'em, but 'e's too powerful. I couldn't keep 'em away. They took 'er and then he raised her, until tonight. She was only three years old, not even."

Silence. He was thinking hard. Mrs. Lovett could tell from his scrunched up face and creased forehead.

"And why, Mrs. Lovett, are you more to me than my razors?"

She took a step closer, bringing her raw hand to his soot-covered face. "Can't say for sure meself, love. Life's a crazy thing. But maybe it's 'cause I'm just as attracted to you"

They kissed. Again.

When they broke apart they both had tears on their dirty skin.

"Mr. T, about everything I did... and Lucy... I-"

He broke off her sentence with another kiss, this one full of more love than he had ever felt.

"Don't," he said, "Don't be sorry. I forgive you."

"Sweeney, darling, are you ready?"

He continued to stare at his former home. "No. I never will be."

She placed a red, shiny hand on his arm. She was just beginning to heal. Her small sprouts of hair were hidden by an atrocious wig, skin blistered and peeling, eyebrows and lashes singed off. Yet she looked happier and more alive than ever.

"But we don't have a choice, do we, Nellie?"

Nellie Lovett grabbed her trembling adopted son by the hand. They vibrated together.

"You sure they ain't gonna find us, Mum?"

She looked down at her poor little boy. He had taken all this so well. Horrified by her and her partner's actions, it had taken quite some time to ease his mind and make him understand. But now he was faced with another burdening thought: the fear of discovery.

"No, doll, I can't be sure. We can only 'ope for the best. But I don't think they'll find us. We're leaving no traces behind."

In this time, Sweeney had left down the dark roads, sheltered by the angry clouds that shielded the moon's light. Boy and baker bundled together all the items they could before they heard the faint hoof steps of a horse.

"That'll be him, love. Grab ev'rything you can. We need to hurry, or we'll have the owner of that carriage on us, soon enough."

They stole into the night, loading awkward bags, trunks, and boxes into the wagon. Mrs. Lovett searched around with a frown.

"Sweeney, I've got your razors, but what about your other belongings?"

"Haven't you packed them?"

"Well, yes dear, ev'rything from downstairs. But what about the things from your shop? You only gave me the razors."

"That's all I own, Mrs. Lovett. We can't easily transport anything else, except the crib, which could be broken down."

"But..."

"No, don't worry, Nellie. Too many memories. I'll buy a new one when the time comes."

"Wait!" Toby shouted, looking at Mrs. Lovett's stomach in awe. "You're not-"

Mrs. Lovett giggled. "No, darling, course not. Why, we're not even married yet. But we've been thinking maybe you could do with a sibling at some point..."

Toby looked disappointed and relieved all at once.

Mrs. Lovett turned her attention back to her future husband. "But the photo, love..."

He hugged her from behind. "I don't need the ghosts following me, Nellie. I have a fine wife and a fine child with me right here. And who knows? Someday, we might have another."

"With blond 'air?" she whispered.

"No," he replied. "I've taken quite a liking to dark redheads."

She quickly kissed him on the cheek. Toby volunteered to drive first, since he had had to do it many times before for Pirelli.

Nellie and Sweeney climbed into the carriage. Sweeney was strong, but Nellie could see the pain in his eyes for leaving so much behind.

"I'm sorry, Sweeney."

He just sat next to her and grasped her hand.

They pulled away, and as they began to move silently in their stolen carriage, Sweeney abruptly turned his head away.

"Love?"

No response.

The small moments of contentedness in his eyes had vanished. They were once again cold. He was in a trance.

They sat.

And sat.

And sat.

Mrs. Lovett looked at Sweeney anxiously. She wanted him back to life.

She quickly kissed his cheek, and she saw the recognition return.

"Love?..."

"I forgive you."

They held hands as the city went speeding by.

"We had to do what we had to do, Nellie. And I'm glad to take you to the sea."

"I think the atmosphere will cheer you up a bit love."

He would never admit it, especially not to her, but he agreed.

People stared at the odd couple strolling into the room. They had moved into the quiet little town a few months ago. They had a teenage son. The woman wore bright colors, mostly vibrant reds. She had bouncy curls that were equally cherry-colored. Her eyes were always full of mischief and laughter and her petite body showed signs of wear and springiness at the same time. The man was her complete opposite. He walked stiffly and shyly. He had pure black eyes. His hair was dark with a strange white streak and he glared at everything. However, when he looked at his son, his eyes showed hints of pride, and when he looked at his wife, they were bright with love. And their boy was tall and lean. He was a sweet fellow who never seemed to be clean.

The petite baker had a glow in her eyes that they had not seen before, and even the barber had a more relaxed way about him. From the way they moved, the people could tell what they suspected. It seemed odd that this would happen at this time, but accidents happened, and the couple seemed to be overjoyed.

Mr. and Mrs. Todd waited eagerly to enter the office. Nellie was practically jumping with excitement. Even Sweeney was twitching his fingers in anticipation. Nellie's hands were folded lovingly across her stomach. Sweeney stole short glances at it. The baker squealed as their names were called, and even the very sick smiled at her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Todd, you are here because...?" The tall, harsh-looking man peered over his long nose at them.

"We think we might be expecting a baby," Nellie said excitedly.

"And your reasons for belief...?

The baker looked thoughtful. "Well, we've been trying for a while, and I've been feeling funny lately. 'Appier than normal. But when I get sad, I'm real sad. And... oh! 'Aven't been feeling me best. Bit nauseous. Course, I 'ave 'ad a spot of a cold for a while now..."

"Mm hmm... I'll just do some examinations."

Nellie smiled brilliantly at Sweeney. He tried to return it. He was happy, too. But all he could seem to do was to scowl at the doctor running his hands all over his wife, asking personal questions, and poking odd instruments in inappropriate places...

"Mm hmm... And Mrs. Todd, have you menstruated at all since these ... feelings?"

Her smile faltered just a bit. "Well, yes, I have... but I've 'eard that sometimes 'appens in the first few months."

"Yes... from time to time."

Her smile faltered again and even disappeared when the doctor left the room to examine his notes.

Her eager energy had now turned to anxious waiting. "What do you think, love? I was so certain, but now..."

"Nellie, whether or not you're pregnant, there is no need to be nervous. If you aren't, then we could just try again..." A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

She gave a half-hearted smile and twiddled her thumbs. She really was hoping she was expecting.

"Mr. and Mrs. Todd, I'm sorry, but you are not expecting a child." Nellie looked devastated and tired.

"Well," Sweeney stated, "that's that. Come on, Nellie, let's-"

The doctor interrupted. "I have some more bad news," he said with a sick grin. Nellie looked close to tears. "Mrs. Lovett, based off my notes and samples, I must inform you that you are infertile. You will never conceive a child. I wonder how you even got the first."

"He... he's adopted," she spoke shakily.

"Oh, I see. My deepest apologies. Good day." As the doctor turned to leave, a fist connected with his face. He crumpled to the ground. Sweeney stood behind him with fury in his eyes.

"That bastard," he growled. Mrs. Todd ran tearfully into his arms.

"I-I -I I didn't kno-ow love! I I'm S-ssss-ssoss-sorryyey, Sweeneyeyeyey!"

"Hush, pet. I forgive you. And I should be the one apologizing. Look how upset you are." He paused. "I'm upset, too."

"I-I... WaAhaAhahaHaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh!"

"Shh..." he comforted softly, although tears threatened to creep from the corners of his own eyes. "It's not like we've lost a child, we just can't make one. Nellie, think of Toby. Aren't you glad we haven't lost him?"

She nodded her head vigorously, tears flying everywhere.

"Well, we've still got the street urchin, and I don't know what we'd do without him."

"Y-y-you mean it?"

"I do. The kid's grown on me, in a way."

No fresh tears flowed down Nellie's wet face. She bravely wiped them away.

As the barber and the baker walked home with sorrowful faces, the villagers saw a little less life in them. The happy lost their joy, the sad felt like life was pointless. The healthy felt sick, the sick dropped dead. The absence of their odd cheeriness brought a gloom to the town, and the inhabitants found themselves praying that the couple would find joy again soon.

"'Appy Birthday, love!"

"'Appy Birthday, Dad!"

"Ppppy Birfay Daay!"

"Bark!"

Nellie Todd practically skipped into the room while skillfully balancing a large cake in her tiny arms. Her adopted son Toby trailed behind. Her adopted daughter's hand was firmly gripped by her proud son's as she wobbled on her short toddler legs. And a stray mutt loyally followed behind, trailing wet sand.

As she stared into her husband's surprised eyes, Nellie, realized that her husband had not changed much since they had moved to the quiet little village on the beach ten years before. His hair was just as thick, though his quirky white streak was a tad thicker than before, his face remained practically unlined, except for a bit around the eyes, and his body was just as fit as before. He looked absolutely NOTHING like a fifty-year-old.

She proudly placed the cake on the table in front of him. Toby and Ruby handed the gift to their adopted mother to place at the barber's place, but not before the mutt could get his dirty paws on it.

"Aw, no!" cried the young man who had once been a scrawny boy. His big arms crossed in front of his broad chest. Toby had certainly become a man, although he retained much of his boy-like attitude. "Look Scruff! Look at what you did!"

"Bad sptruff! No nonono doggay!" Ruby mimicked Toby, folding her arms crossly. She wobbled and gripped his leg tightly before plopping gently onto her behind.

Nellie giggled. "Oh, no! We took so long to wrap it, and look what 'appened! Toby, what did I tell you about that mutt? I'm sorry, Sweeney."

"I forgive you, pet. It's just paper. But may I ask why the mutt's in our house?"

She sighed. "Ask Toby, darling. He's gotten quite attached. I'm afraid we'll be adopting it." She looked fondly at the hyper scrap despite her words.

His lips curled up in a small smile. "Adopt, adopt. That's all we ever do. You are too soft," he said as he pulled the little girl into his lap. Sweeney wasn't complaining. He didn't show it much, but he deeply cared for his strong adopted son and the beautiful little girl they had found. He could almost imagine it was their real daughter, with her bouncy, red curls and big, dark eyes.

He wasn't too pleased with the dog, but he supposed he could make the sacrifice for his family. Besides it might grow on him like the street urchin they had takin in over ten years ago, and the little baby in the basket, left at their doorstep in only two.

He carefully tore off the paper. He spoke no words, and no smile affected his mouth, but his family could see he appreciated it. His eyes widened at the sight of a new box for his razors, made of pure silver with rubies on the edges. Inside, there were six slots for his razors and a new leather strop on top. The woman, children, and dog smiled before leaving the fifty-year-old man to examine his new toys closely and feel like a child again.

Time was almost up.

Oh, how he hated that doctor.

It hadn't exactly come as a surprise when his wife was unable to pull herself out of bed one day. She had been sick for quite some time. In fact, nine years ago, from that day, the doctor had estimated she had about two months to live. She had pulled through much longer than that. Nine years longer than expected before the day she lost her strength.

Nine years was a long time. In that time, her boy and gotten married and started a family. He married a beautiful young woman named Rose. If the doctor had been correct, Nellie would never have met her two grandchildren, Billy and Lianna.

But she did.

In that time, Patches (the dog they adopted after Scruff died) also passed away, and they took in another dog. If the doctor had been correct, Nellie would never had met Mr. Tuffles.

But she did.

In that time, Ruby had become a nun. She promised her adopted parents that she would make up for the crimes they had committed. If the doctor had been correct, Nellie would have never met the priest, whose brother in London, also a priest, had mysteriously disappeared forty years before.

But she did.

In that time, she reached seventy years of age. If the doctor had been correct, she never would have met the little kitten Sweeney gave her to celebrate.

But she did.

Now, however, at seventy-five, so much had changed. Her hair that had retained its color before turned snow white, though not one line ever creased her youthful face. She became weak. Her always slender figure became scrawny and sickly. And she couldn't move.

She couldn't walk. And she couldn't even sit up. Everytime she spoke, she coughed harshly. Sometimes she coughed blood. It was hard to breathe to the point where tears streamed down her face.

But she held on.

Now, Sweeney knew she really was dying. Her hair lost its curl. She couldn't lift her arms. She ALWAYS coughed blood. Her face was never dry. It had been like this for weeks. But one day he woke up to find her breathing ragged, uneven breaths.

He told Ruby to get the doctor. He told her to take her time, that it wasn't an emergency, but she knew better. He wanted to be alone with his wife in her last moments of life. Ruby kissed her mother's cheek and squeezed her hand, telling her that she loved her. She gave one last sad look into her eyes before departing quietly, sobbing only to herself.

"See, Nellie? Ruby's gone to get the doctor. You'll be okay." He mentally slapped himself for speaking to her like she was a young child. Nellie was physically incapable, but her mind was sharp as ever.

She shook her head sadly. "We know it won't do any good." She bent over in a fit of coughing. When she raised her head, red was splattered all over the white sheets.

"Shh... Nellie, save your voice."

But she couldn't stop coughing. Blood was everywhere. The sheets, her hands, his face, her throat. He gulped. All of the sudden he was back in a moment long ago when his first wife had died. Blood was everywhere. Her clothes, her hands, his face. Especially her throat. He was slapped back into the present as she gulped in air painfully.

"I can't-" Tears streamed down her face as she struggled harder for air. "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!"

Sweeney's own eyes were wet. He hadn't cried in ages. He put his hands on her shoulders to try and stop her shaking. "Just hold on longer. The doctor will be here. You'll be fine."

She wasn't struggling anymore. In fact, she wasn't breathing at all. Only every now and then would she take a ragged gasp.

"No."

He didn't protest. He knew. Even she knew. They both knew.

"I'm sorry, Sweeney."

He leaned in and kissed her gently. They were young again. Laughing, singing, wriggling their toes in the the soft sand. Then something was missing. Nellie disappeared from the scene.

When they pulled away, Nellie's eyes were gently closed. Sweeney waited for them to open.

They didn't.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he screamed. All of the sudden, he felt young and full of revenge. He rushed upstairs and grabbed his razors, slashing almost everything in sight. Anything he had bought for himself was destroyed. Anything he had bought with Nellie, or she had bought for him was safe. He rushed back downstairs and willed for her to live.

He grasped her cold hands, waiting for them to warm, waiting for them to give a reassuring squeeze.

They didn't.

For the first time ever, Sweeney Todd broke down. He fell to his knees at the bedside and sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Sweeney," she had said.

For the first time ever, Sweeney Todd couldn't forgive her.