Hello, readers! This is a rewrite of a story I began a few years ago on my old profile, MissAnissa. I have been inspired to re-write, as well as complete it. Changes in the plot will be minor, but will mostly remain the same and will hopefully be more well-written for your enjoyment. Thank you very much and I hope you enjoy it! - Kaity

"Nothing's gonna harm you… Not while I'm around…" The ethereal voice filled the darkness as a lone figure, a young man, stood in silence, lost and without direction. He turned to his left, then to his right, before beginning his walk through the darkness. The dismembered voice had silenced and all that remained was an echo of something dripping. Drip… Drip… Drip… The man continued his walk until the dripping became more apparent and a faint light could be seen. He then realized that he appeared to be in a tunnel; a humid tunnel that was home to creatures who thrived in the darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he discovered the faint light was in actuality a flame from a distant oven. A pungent smell filled his nostrils as he approached warily. He faced the oven with great curiosity and as he reached for the handle to open it, he remembered the constant drip. Drip… Drip… Drip... The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he slowly turned his head, facing the source of the faithful sound. Someone was suddenly kneeling on the ground before him and looked up slowly. It was the face of a terror. The face of the Devil, himself.

"Toby!"

Tobias Ragg sat straight up in his bed, breathing heavily and looking around at his surroundings. Gone was the darkness, the oven, and that face that had haunted him all those years. What surrounded him instead was the dreary cell, with two beds, walls of stone that were always cold to the touch, and above Toby's bed was a small barred opening to the outside world. Toby wiped the sweat off of his face with his wool blanket, and with a heavy sigh, he rubbed his eyes.

"You were having one of those terrors again, were you not?" His cellmate and friend, Porter, asked.

Toby nodded in response and threw his blanket off of himself. "I was. I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Porter," Toy said.

Porter chuckled and leaned against the stone wall. "Nothing can disturb me," he said nonchalantly and stared down at the floor. He then looked at Toby with eager eyes. "You're being released today, yes?"

"I am," Toby said confidently. Today had been the day he had been waiting for for a very long time. The doctor he had to see regularly in this madhouse deemed that Toby had been fully recovered from his terrors and moments of "insanity" that would send him into an emotional yet usually contained frenzy. Toby hadn't lashed out at a patient in five years and his day terrors were becoming less and less frequent. His nightmares remained, but they did not affect his behavior and would allow him to function normally within London's society. Like many of the other patients, Toby's mental ailments were not his fault, but the fault of traumatic past experiences, however, he was almost himself again and had hopes for his future.

Toby was only fourteen years old when he had witnessed the murder of Mrs. Lovett, whom he had learned to love as a mother. He had witnessed the barber, Sweeney Todd, throw her into an open oven and Toby had heard her screams as she was being consumed by the flames. That same night, Toby found dismembered limbs in the meat grinder, where the successful pies of Mrs. Lovette were being made. He had seen the brutally slaughtered bodies of Beadle Bamford, Judge Turpin, and a beggar woman, whom he was sure he had shooed out of the pie shop during the grand opening. From the conversation he had heard between Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd before he killed her, he realized that the beggar woman had been Todd's wife. The horrors he had witnessed had numbed him, leading up to the very moment he murdered Sweeney Todd.

Toby had been a complete mess when he was brought to the madhouse, both mentally and physically. His appetite had vanished for the first few weeks he was there before giving in and partaking in the feasts of gruel. Throughout his days, he would cry hysterically for Mrs. Lovett and swear to avenge her, even though he had already done so. He frequently prayed for the damnation of Sweeney Todd's soul and hoped that he was paying for what he had done.

That night never left Toby's memory. He would have vivid flashbacks of it all, which caused him to have terrible terrors in both the night and day. These terrors would cause him to lash out violently at the other patients by threatening them or shouting at them. All patients, young and old, began to fear the young boy and because of this, Toby was usually kept in a cramped cell, which he shared with two other boys, who were also deemed "dangerous", by the names of Match and Porter. Match, who had been named by other patients, had a fascination with fire and somehow always found matches, which had to be confiscated from him. He spoke nonsense and Toby feared him. He had been the cause of a small fire in the cell, but it was put out before any damage could be done. Match mysteriously vanished one day after a therapy unknown to Toby or Porter and they were told that he had died in an accident with a doctor.

Porter, however, did not seem insane at all to Toby. Porter had already been in this madhouse when Toby had arrived ten years ago. He had been extremely quiet and barely spoke to Toby during the first few months of Toby's arrival. Porter eventually became more comfortable with his cellmate and day by day, he would speak more and more until Toby learned his life story. Porter's mother had been a woman of wealth and a sudden madness led her to murder her husband, or so Porter was told. She was with child when she was placed in the madhouse, which was where Porter was born. His mother had passed away shortly after, leaving Porter in the "care" of nurses and patients. He was given the name Porter for an unknown reason. Terrible things had happened to Porter throughout his early life at the madhouse, which was why he was cautious when trusting new people. Toby was appalled by the things Porter had told him but Porter was even more appalled by the things Toby had told him.

Over the years, the two became close friends; each dreaming of a life outside of the madhouse. A life filled with travel, perhaps a wife and family, success and anything else that would distract them from the past. Porter knew he would never leave the madhouse; his life at the madhouse was all he had ever known, but he had hopes for Toby, even if he had been a little fearful of him at times.

Toby had grown into a rather handsome young man. Unlike most of the other patients, Toby tried his best to take good care of himself and not fall to the unhopeful bleakness that the others had fallen into, Porter was included in this bunch. His good behavior over the last few years earned him the trust of the doctors to be released back into normal life. Most patients did not leave this place, however, there were a few lucky ones and Toby was about to be one of them.

"Have you got everything packed and ready?" Porter asked.

Toby nodded excitedly and pointed to a worn leather suitcase near his bed, which contained his few belongings. "I have barely anything to pack," he said and then gave Porter a worried look. "Are you going to be alright without me, Porter? I know how difficult it is for you to talk to people." Toby had been Porter's only friend and it pained Toby to leave, but he knew if he were to stay, the madness would return.

"Oh, I'll be fine. I am going to miss you, Ragg," Porter replied with a genuine smile.

"I shall miss you, as well," Toby sighed and reached over to pick up his very light suitcase.

Porter watched him. "What's the first thing you'll do when you leave?"

"The first thing," Toby began, "is that I'm going back." Toby had been planning to return for years, confident that he could handle being back at the shop. He had no other place to go to and it was a better option than being out on the streets.

Porter's jaw dropped at Toby's answer. "To the shop right away? Why in hell would you want to go back to that damned place? I'd avoid it if I were you."

"Porter, don't worry. One of the officers said the same and I thought about it, but I have some plans that will distract me from all of that and I had the officer here do me a favor before I return. Mitchells is his name," Toby said, holding his suitcase to him. He had kept this planning quiet from Porter since he knew he would try to convince him not to go.

"Such as?" Porter asked, not convinced.

"Well, I told him to empty out Mr. Todd's room upstairs of the unnecessary, except the bigger furniture if it didn't sell, which he did. Nothing had been touched. Money was also found and it went to me, miraculously, I honestly didn't think that would happen. Todd's furniture, along with a few of Mrs. Lovett's, was sold at an auction and the money from the auction is now in my possession at a bank. I bought the shop and have some leftover money. I'm going to reopen Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium once I have all the supplies I need and make even more money. I did learn a lot when I was helping her around the shop. I think I may even re-open the barber shop upstairs so I can make a little extra more, but I'm not quite sure as of yet," Toby explained.

Porter blinked in response. "My, my, my, you have got things well figured out, I must say." Porter was trying to be supportive but had a faint feeling that it would not be easy for Toby.

Before Toby could express his thanks for Porter's support, Officer Mitchells, whom Toby had spoken of, was standing before the door of the cell with keys in hand. He opened it and nodded at both Porter and Toby.

"Mr. Ragg, it's time to go," the officer said.

Toby nodded, turned to Porter, and the two embraced. Porter lightly patted his friend's back.

"Take good care of yourself."

"Right, Porter, you too," Toby said, gently pulling away from him and picking up his suitcase. It was a bittersweet moment, Toby was leaving the past behind and working toward a better future, but part of him would miss life in the madhouse, not the therapies or fear, but the friendship he had shared with Porter and the routine. "Stop by the shop when you get out," Toby told him.

Porter laughed and shook his head. "We'll see about that."

Toby then stepped toward the open door and looked back at his cell, which he lived in for ten years of his life. He looked once more at Porter. "Goodbye, Porter."

"Goodbye, Toby. Be sure to send me one of those meat pies, if you can, aye?" Porter smirked.

Toby smiled at him. "I shall."

Officer Mitchells stood aside as Toby walked out of the room and closed the door behind him. The officer immediately inspected Toby up and down with his eyes. "Uh, first things first," the officer began, "you have to go upstairs, get yourself cleaned up, have a bath, and get some new clothes. You weren't expecting to be released in those horrendous rags, were you?"

Toby looked down at his best shirt with tattered sleeves, faded gray pants, and shoes. "These are my only clothes, Officer."

Officer Mitchells looked at the leather suitcase he was holding and nodded at it. "Then what's in that?"

"Oh, this? This was given to me when I arrived. It has my small possessions that I was able to bring with me."

"I see. Well, while you're upstairs putting yourself together, I shall go out and find something acceptable for you to go out in. I suggest when you arrive back, the first thing you do is find yourself a new wardrobe," the officer advised.

Toby said his thanks to the officer and the two soon departed. Toby headed straight upstairs and found a clean bath to bathe in. After that, he combed his hair, shaved with a razor he found, washed his face, and once he had finished, a new set of clothes had arrived for him to wear. The officer had found for him a gently used pair of black leather boots, a new shirt, trousers, and a coat.

After Toby was dressed, he was told by a nurse that Officer Mitchells was waiting for him outside with a carriage. Toby excitedly picked up his suitcase and looked at a cracked mirror on the wall; he smiled at himself. He looked top-notch and had never worn such nice clothes before. He felt like a brand new man; he was a brand new man. He was ready to take on a new life, all he had to do was bravely walk out of this hellish place.

As he walked through the halls of cells with the nurse following behind, he heard the moaning and groaning of patients wishing to leave. He kept his gaze straightforward, refusing to look into the eyes of the poor souls until he heard a voice call out his name. He turned toward a cell and saw a haggard old woman with long white hair and sunken eyes. She had been there as longer than Toby had been. Toby was not surprised that she knew his name, for she had been one of the patients he had threatened during a hysterical moment he had years ago.

"There be a bad omen with ye, son," the woman wailed.

Toby stepped back and stared at her in confusion. More nonsense. "You're mad," he muttered. The nurse urged him to continue walking, and he did so.

"I am not the one who be mad! Ye are, Tobias Ragg!" The woman screeched.

Toby shivered and quickened his pace. The nurse said nothing and kept watch on him as she followed.

Once Toby reached the door of the madhouse, he took a deep breath and refused to look behind him. The nurse opened the door to the outside world for him and said: "Goodbye, Mr. Ragg."

"Goodbye," Toby said to her, clutching his suitcase to him and rushing out the door and down the steps of the madhouse. The crisp, yet thick, foggy London air almost immediately left him breathless. He stared up at a sky he had not been able to see, other than through dirty windows and bars, for the past ten years. Toby thought it quite humorous that he found the gloomy sky to be so beautiful after being kept behind stone walls for so long. The sky was just as he remembered it: dark and full of mystery. It was perfect. He inhaled the cold crisp air and noted that the familiar smell of rain was lingering and the roads were already wet from a recent pour. He stared ahead at Officer Mitchells, who was standing by the carriage.

"It's like being in a new world, isn't it?" Officer Mitchells asked.

"It truly is," Toby said, walking over to the carriage.

"Time to leave this place, Mr. Ragg," the officer said as he opened the door of the carriage for him. Toby, not wanting to look back at the madhouse, immediately went into the carriage and slid over to the side to the window that was facing the opposite street.

"You're still planning on Fleet Street as before?" The officer asked before he stepped into the carriage.

Toby did not look away from the window as he answered. "Fleet Street," he said.

The journey to Fleet Street was a fairly short one. Officer Mitchells remained silent all throughout the ride while Toby stared, wide-eyed, at the once familiar buildings and streets. He remembered it all; the church, the grocer, the courthouse, the fountain, the houses, the marketplace. The streets were filled with pockets of people here and there and he wondered what they had thought of the nightmare that happened ten years ago. Had they known? Was a man in their family a victim of Todd? Were they all blissfully unaware? Toby envied them.

Soon, the carriage stopped in front of the place that was the most familiar to Toby. His heart began to race at the sight of it.

"Ready, Mr. Ragg?" The officer asked.

Toby took a deep breath and calmed himself. "Yes," Toby said quickly, suitcase in hand. He opened the door, stepped out of the carriage and gazed upon the shop. The state of the shop truly reflected the secret horrors that went on inside and below. Mrs. Lovett's sign had faded, the windows were covered in dust, the curtains inside appeared to be in tatters; there seemed to be endless work to be done.

"I do hope that this won't be too much for you, Mr. Ragg," Officer Mitchells said to the young man.

Toby shook his head. "I'm sure I will be able to handle it, Officer." He turned to him and extended his hand. "I am grateful for everything you have done."

"My pleasure," Officer Mitchells said as he shook Toby's hand. "Now, don't be getting yourself into trouble. I have faith in you, Mr. Ragg. I can see that if you play your cards right, you will be very successful."

His words meant the world to Toby at this moment; a little encouragement was what he needed in order to be fully confident for his life to be better so he would never return to the madhouse again. "Thank you so much, Officer," Toby said with a friendly smile. "I won't let you down. Once I get this shop re-opened, I'll be sure to give you your first pie be free of charge; just don't tell a soul."

Officer Mitchells laughed heartily. "Why, thank you, Mr. Ragg. I appreciate it. I do enjoy having a good meal once in a while," he said as he got back into the carriage. "I'm sure we shall see one another soon."

"Of course," Toby nodded and watched the carriage disappear into the mist. Once it was gone, Toby breathed a sigh of relief, opened his leather suitcase, and pulled out a ring of keys given to him months prior. He found what he remembered to be the right key for the front door and walked slowly to it. He shut his eyes tightly as he put the key in the lock and gave it a turn. The door swung open after he gave it a gentle push. Mustering his confidence, he opened his eyes and peered into the shop. "Alright, then," he sighed and entered. He could feel clouds of dust fall lightly on him, along with cobwebs, and what he was sure were spider webs.

Everything in the entrance was the same as it was ten years ago. The table where he ate his first meat pie was there and so was Mrs. Lovett's baking area. He smiled softly to himself. He remembered sitting at that table eating while he watched Mrs. Lovett bake and tell him stories that he so enjoyed.

He continued on into the next room, the sitting room. The fireplace was still intact but Mrs. Lovett's decorations were gone. Toby concluded that they must have been stolen or sold at the auction. To his left was Mrs. Lovett's chair, worn and faded, but still intact, obviously not pretty enough to sell. He remembered seeing her rest on that chair after a long day of work. He would always sit near her and the two would have humorous conversations with each other. If anyone had heard them, they would assume the two were quite mad, which they might have been.

After revisiting memories, Toby decided to see what the upstairs was like. He went through the side of the shop and saw the space where all the tables for Mrs. Lovett's grand opening had been placed. To his right were the wooden steps that led up to the room where Sweeney Todd had lived and done his gruesome business. Toby gazed up at the steps and felt his stomach begin to twist in knots. He thought of all the times that he had sent men upstairs to see the best barber in London. He had sent them to their death.

Brushing the guilt aside, Toby hesitantly went up the creaking steps, hitting the barber's pole as he passed it. He already had the correct key in hand once he had made it to the landing and opened the door. The room was fairly empty, as Toby had wanted, aside from the bulkier furniture that probably could not sell. What a relief it was to Toby to see that the bloody mess from that night when he was showing the officers what Todd had done was all cleaned up. No sign of the horrendous murders could be seen anywhere, not on the floor, nor the windows.

The dusty bed frame had been left for Toby, as well as the old barber station. The barber chair was also left in the middle of the room. He approached it with caution and examined it; it was worn, just as the chair downstairs, and was as dusty as a tomb. He lightly stepped on the pedal of the chair but nothing happened. Upon doing this, he realized that the trap door for the bodies had been hammered shut. Everything else in the room was gone, and after a brief examination of the room's condition, Toby decided that this room was now his.

When Toby set his suitcase down on the floor, dust flew up and filled the air. He waved the dust away and knelt down beside his suitcase to empty it out. What fell out were the three possessions he had kept with him for ten years. The keys were one of these possessions; he had taken the keys he found on the floor when he escaped from the bakehouse and kept them with him until the investigators asked for them. After their investigation, Toby asked for them back and seeing no need for them anymore, the investigators returned them to him until needed again. The second possession was the tattered hat that he wore when he was younger. It didn't fit him anymore but he had kept it for no particular reason. The last possession was a barber knife he had stolen from Sweeney Todd. It was the same knife that he had used to slit Sweeney Todd's throat with. He had tried parting with it so many times throughout the years, but a haunting force had always prevented him from doing so.

Toby stood up from the floor and gazed around the room, imagining what he could do with it. He would clean up the station and chair, as well as purchase some furniture for the lonely room. Downstairs, he would refurbish Mrs. Lovett's sitting room and polish the tables, as well as purchase new tables for the outside patio. When he was ready to face his fears, he would go down to the bakehouse and start the machines up again but this time, the machines would really be making meat pies. Toby was ready to make things right and he intended to keep it that way.

Toby went back downstairs minutes later to the pie shop and forced opened a cupboard, full of spider webs. He wasn't surprised when he saw a dead spider in the corner of the cupboard and knew he would be coming across many of them, dead and alive, as he began restoring the place. He opened another cupboard and found an extremely dusty bottle of gin next to equally dusty glass cups. "Ah, you look familiar," Toby grinned. He took the dusty bottle and a glass and examined them. After blowing into the cup, and wiping both the cup and bottle on his shirt, he walked over to the table in the corner and sat. He happily served himself some gin and reclined in his seat, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He hadn't had a nice glass of gin like this in quite some time. The only time he was able to have a drink like this was when it was stolen from doctors and passed around during mealtime.

Toby held his glass out as if he was proposing a toast. "To a new life," he stated and took a hearty sip. The gin soon ignited something within him and Toby began to plan how to turn the drab abandoned shop into a place of success.