Yay, guys, I'm back! :)

So I was getting so much encouragement to continue my last multi-chap and at first I really didn't feel like making it longer than an epilogue-ish one-shot but now I got a tiny little plan worked out. It depends a lot on your feedback though, because you know how sometimes you really love something and you can't let go of it? That's how I feel with this storyline in the alternate universe I've previously created in Barbers and their Sensibilities and now I'm feeling a little insecure about it. Dunno.

Anyway, if you haven't read the other story, don't worry. This can absolutely stand alone, though BatS (never noticed how it shortens to that) does explain the changes in Sweeney. Basically the previous story was really dark and there was a lot of violence and I really want this continuation to be a lot lighter and maybe even a bit fluff-ish. Just because I'm loving the pairing more than ever.

Also because of my terrible updating intervals last time I'm not gonna set myself a deadline for updates, it just seems to work better for me this way, sorry for any inconvenience. I am trying to give you regular updates by keeping them a bit shorter though.

Okay, enough chit-chat and on with the story, I hope you're in for the ride.

Disclaimer: disclaimed. (This is the laziest disclaimer I've come up with in a year but I'm tired.)

Bakers and their Loyalty
Pt. I

Wiggling her toes in the sand, Eleanor Lovett let out a content sigh and, leaning back on her elbows, stretched her torso sunwards. Not that the sun was particularly warm but it was there and that's what mattered to the baker. It had been quite a while since she had fled the dreaded streets of London with her barber and still it thrilled her that he hadn't turned down her plea to take her with him, though she still thought his change of general behavior more than strange; he even was close to friendly on some days. Well, she certainly wouldn't complain.

The only thing bothering her now while sitting on the tranquil beach she had dreamt of she was a little innocent lass was the tiny nagging voice in the back of her head screaming at her that she was bloody insane to believe Sweeney Todd had really changed and was not just making a fool of her as he had done so often in the past. She had become quite good at ignoring that annoying voice, though fully aware of her own foolish trust in a man that had not only ruined her life but also attempted to murder her on more than one occasion,

Wasn't it strange how one was influenced by love?

Love was what had started this whole dilemma in the first place. Had the barber not loved his goddamn Lucy as much as he obviously had – and likely still did – he wouldn't have felt the need to avenge the judge's wrongdoings in such a violent way. And had she, Eleanor Lovett, not loved Sweeney Todd – in a way even more than she had loved Benjamin Barker – her heart would have been spared all the misery of the past year since the barber's escape from the colony.

It was a sheer mystery to her how the silly man could leave her devastated and in shreds and then return to heal her almost instantly by merely giving her the least amount of attention he could muster without being impolite.
Yes, he was still not one to merrily converse with, though currently a little more than even she had initially dared to hope when they had left the city together. He at least seemed to not detest her company anymore and he, as he so often did, described her constant chatter as 'disgusting' he said it halfheartedly and without the loathing undertone his voice had always held before she had kicked him out of her house.

In retrospect it had been the best damn thing she'd ever done in her life. Now, if she were to believe the barber's story – and at the moment she did – he had done the one thing she had advised him to do for months and found closure. And she liked to give herself a little bit of credit for that, mostly because he didn't.

She shook her head at her own thoughts, torn between rational thoughts telling her to think clearly and leave the man who had so much power over her be, and irrational emotions effectively blocking her ability to do precisely that. On the one hand she still loved him unconditionally, even though he still treated her like air on some days and still took advantage of her as his personal housekeeper, but on the other hand she couldn't quite trust him – or herself. Not after all that had happened.

"Enough o' all this," she said to herself as she moved to get up, carefully brushing sand off her dress and arms. She was done doubting the barber's motives for one day. If he wanted to leave her he would have not only said but also already done so.

Her feet were still bare when she walked along the sea shore, almost squealing with delight every time the cold water washed over her skin. Above her head she heard the raw squawking of a group of seagulls. They were not really the most beautiful birds to look at and definitely dreaded by society. In a way so was Eleanor herself. She knew what it was like to be left alone in the dark world of the industrial age, and being treated like a leper. With Sweeney she had found someone who understood that too and even while he stayed quiet throughout most days except for necessary communication, in the evenings he had gradually started to engage in conversation with the baker. He probably underestimated how much this meant to her but she pretended like it was nothing out of the ordinary and so they sat by the fire in the small cottage they had rented – still close enough to the sea to hear the waves crashing – and talked about whatever came to their mind. Those rare moments when he let her in, let her get to know that new person he was trying to be, kept the tiny flame of hope deep within the depths of her scarred heart burning.

It was now gradually getting dark and in the distance she could see that a thunderstorm was creeping its way up to the coast. She quickened her pace until she was running across the dunes, joyful laughter escaping her lips. Never in her life had she felt as free as at that moment. Suddenly rain started falling, soaking her from head to toe but she couldn't care less. She spread her arms and pirouetted around while her fiery curls dampened and stuck to her face. When the roar of thunder grew louder and lightning started illuminating the dark grey sky at closer intervals she knew she had to make her way back to the cottage. Back home.

.

He didn't look like he had been waiting for her but for the fraction of a second she saw relief cross his beautiful face when she stepped through the door just as lightning flashed through the sky again.

"You've been gone for a while," he stated and made his way over to the small cooking niche to put some kettle on.

"Sorry, love. Got a lil' distracted out there." She crossed the room until she was standing next to him and pressed a small kiss to his cheek which the barber endured patiently. At least usually he did. Now he grimaced and turned to face her and she was all but expecting him to hit her. Instead he studied her closely and in his eyes she could detect the hint of a smile.

"Eleanor, you are soaking wet."

At that she laughed, "Oh really? I 'adn't noticed."
She wrung out her hair for demonstrational purposes and the water formed a small puddle on the floor before it got soaked up by the wood. When she looked at him again her corkscrew curls were even messier than usual, partly blocking her vision. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before stepping forward and tentatively reaching out to brush her untamable streaks of hair out of her face. Her heart almost stopped at his touch. For a moment they stood there, unmoving, and stared into each other's eyes. The barber was just about to say something but instead cleared his throat and stepped away.

"I believe you should get out of those clothes."

The innuendo was not intended by him and she knew that but still her stomach flipped at his words and she suddenly longed for him to mean what he had said like she wished to hear. She just nodded, though his back was turned on her and went into her bedroom. It was the only bedroom but Sweeney had in an unusual moment of generosity offered for her to take it while he slept on the surprisingly spacious sofa in the living area. She had tried pushing her luck and hinted that she wouldn't mind them sharing a bed but he had sent her a glare that had made the blood freeze in her veins. Since that day she had dropped the subject.

From next door she heard the shrill noise of the boiling kettle. The thought of having a cup of tea calmed her and it took her a moment to realize why; she was shaking with cold. Untying the cords of a corset was already hard enough on a normal day, now with the knots soaked and tightened it was a task almost impossible to achieve. But the baker could hardly ask the man in the next room for help. She frowned, considering her chances of him actually coming to her rescue. As if on cue a knock sounded at the door.

"Eleanor?"

"Just a minute, dear. I'm havin' trouble with me dress."

Silence. She could perfectly picture the helpless expression on his face. "Do you.. uh.. need help?"

"Nah, I'll be fine." After that she heard him step away from the door. It took some more fumbling but eventually she managed to untie her corset and get out of her wet clothes. For the evening she decided to put on a lighter robe, black as always, and with the usual generous amount of cleavage showing. As soon as she was dry again she felt immensely better and was ready to emerge from the room and join her barber again.

He was sitting by the fire, blankly staring into the flames, orange shadows dancing across his features. When he noticed her he shifted in his seat to provide enough space for her to sit down next to him.

"You 'av'n't touched your tea yet," she commented as she reached out for her own cup. He looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite read before demonstratively taking a sip of the warm liquid.

"So how was the beach?" he asked after a long silence.

"Oh, it was beautiful, Mr. T. You should really come along next time." She wasn't quite prepared for his answer, so when he finally responded she almost dropped the porcelain cup in her hands.

"Maybe I will."

And just like that her world was spinning again. He was willing to accompany her. To spend more time in her presence than absolutely necessary. What did this mean? She certainly didn't know. Likely she was interpreting too much into his simple statement but after their little moment earlier she wasn't sure anymore. God, this man confused her sometimes. For now there was nothing she could do but to wait and see.

The baker leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the warmth radiating off the man sitting next to her and hiding the smile that slowly spread on her face behind her teacup.

She hadn't yet given up on love.

To be continued? I'm ready if you are. The only thing I'm waiting for is your opinion in a review.