Title: Rest My Friend
Disclaimers: Characters belong to Steven Sondheim.
Genre: drama or fluff, who knows?

Rating: PG for some adult themes
Summary/Set: Judge Turpin's body slid down the shoot. What's next?

Warning: for way too much cheeriness factor for Mr. Todd :) All right, sorry, I know happy end is not the point, but can anyone resist? Nope mate, nope.

Pairing: a little this, a little that. ST/razor, ST/Lucy, ST/Mrs. Lovett.

Sweeney Todd was lost to the world around him as he wiped away the last traces of blood left on his razor. He regarded it warmly, stroking his thumb over the smooth handle. The razors had to be cleansed from the blood of monsters he killed, even if his hand got dirty in the meantime. Rest now my friend. A hint of a smile flashed across his face as he silently thanked his razors for the work that was now completed by them. Done. Rest now forever. Sleep now the untroubled sleep of angels.

He knelt down, physically and emotionally spent, and moved his hand slowly to put the instrument to rest, almost reluctant to end the moment. Good byes to old, reliable friends were never easy.

As his fingers let go of the metal, his expression changed. Every warmth he'd been conveying towards what he considered the extension of his arm, was gone that instant. His cold, hard eyes stared at his hands, but without focus, without meaning.

There was silence. No more nagging voice repeating the judge, the judge, the judge. No more visions of his Lucy next to him, caressing his face, rocking the baby, with Turpin watching. There was a godly and complete silence, where he doesn't have to do anything no more, not now, not ever. There's nothing. Nothing to do, nothing to feel. Just like how an end would be. There was no need for him to live anymore. There were no questions, no wondering in his mind whether life was worth living after such a mess, there was simply nothing, his head was empty, his entire being void, his surroundings distant. Life was never a question before, the judge was. He frowned. That bright light from the lamps outside, the animated reflections on the window, even the crimson on his shirt, it was all too vivid, all too lifelike. He didn't belong here. He wasn't a member of society. All of a sudden he felt completely lost and at the same time, in his abysmal woe he was lost to the world around him. Staring without purpose he heard no sounds coming from the chest as Johanna opened the top of it confused, not knowing what had happened. He heard no screams coming from below, he heard no voices when Anthony came back, pulled his love out her hiding place and thanked him. He wasn't dead, not in the physiological sense, but to him, nothingness was the only reality.

Anthony said his good byes, not minding that the barber's features were telling of some personal reverie, they often were. It was a little different this time though, he paused as he observed. Sweeney Todd's expression was like a blank sheet of paper. So blank you could write on it, or perhaps rewrite the whole thing, his whole being.

The sailor put his hand on his shoulder as he departed. Sweeney Todd's reaction at the touch, at somebody transmitting some life into him with their vivaciousness, was delayed, but it was the sailor who'd fished him out the open ocean once when not even his desire for vengeance could've kept him afloat any longer. Sweeney Todd raised his head so slow that he didn't see them departing, but the echo of their footsteps reverberated in his brain.

There had been a creak, the wooden floor groaned beneath their feet. Just like...just like when Lucy came up to him smiling, to hug him when a customer left and they could enjoy some moments to themselves. But she was no ghost, not anymore. He saw her in all color, the room lit up by the sun, her hair shining as if it was that sun itself. He could see her, she was free, there were no more nightmares, no more bad memories, it had all been cared for by those razors. Now, it was really done. Life was worth living, if he could see her that happy, even if it was all in his mind. Living. But what was he going to do with his life now that he has all this free time not chasing judges?

All these thoughts seemed to melt away as a familiar figure came into focus in front of his now very alert eyes, searching for the meaning of his life. Mrs. Lovett, of course.

"That was close..." She muttered, referring to Judge Turpin still being alive when she tried to pull him into the fire. Of course no way she'd tell him about finding Lucy dead and that Toby came back and that he promised not to tell anyone about the bodies for her sake. She'll just tell Mr. T that Toby ran away, if he even asked, he'd maybe not even remember the boy's existence, he oftentimes didn't. But wait a minute, what was the expression he had on? Still rather lost, but peace?

"Forget about that," he stood up from the floor without her help. That was new too.

"Mr. T, I do think we should look for other occupations, this one today, was too close for my liking," she started, never thinking he'd ever agree. They'll be hanged, sooner or later if this went on, but she had to stay with him in this so that she could keep some bit of that beautiful and wonderful Benjamin alive she once loved.

"Couldn't agree more." He had to get away from here, somewhere where the memories of Judge Turpin could never get to him.

"What, Mr. Todd??"

"Not Todd. Sweeney Todd's dead. It's Purport now. Ben Purport. And he will have this world as his."

"What about me?"

"What about you Mrs. Purport?"

The End.