In The Fire

The Next Day

"Forget my face."

Mrs. Lovett woke with a start. She looked around at the room, slightly disoriented at her situation. She took in the room, the warm coverlet on her, making her feel snug and comfortable. However, her still tied corset constricted her airway, making her feel distressed and frantic. Throwing off the coverlet, she quickly ripped off all her clothing in desperation. She pulled out the pins in her hair, and shook her head, attempting to relieve the throbbing in her head she felt torturing her. She pulled on an old nightgown she had kept from her newlywed years, one that comforted her whenever she wanted to cry. She lamely attempted to clean the mess of clothes she made; but she felt oddly lifeless.

She walked to the mirror she had hanging on the wall, studying her appearance. She did look dead. She slowly reached up to her face, touching it softly, not truly believing what she saw.

Her once bright, chocolate brown eyes looked dull and almost charcoal black. Her beautiful auburn curls that were once a source of her pride, were now limp, and dark. Her claret lips stayed the same, but seemed to look strained whenever she would smile. The dark features of her face washed out her already pallid skin. She looked like a ghost, a tormented widow, stuck roaming the earth, searching the world for some peace. The nightgown did not help either; it draped over her thin shoulders like a curtain, not even fitting her as it used to. She was still beautiful, and quite 'voluptuous', as her former husband used to call her; but her troubles and stress had finally caught up to her.

As she looked at the reflection in the mirror, Anouk knocked quietly on the wooden door. "Ma'am… are you…?" As she opened the door to her mistress' room, she gasped. She saw tears rolling down Mrs. Lovett's face. "Ma'am? Are you all right…? I mean, quite obviously you're not, but…" She ran to Nellie's side, and sat her on the bed. "Ma'am, I need you to tell me what's wrong! Should I close shop for today?"

As Anouk fretted over the baker, all that ran through the woman's mind was Sweeney. 'What would he think of me now?' She wanted to kill herself. 'He would find me even uglier… disgusting.'

She did not see anything remotely pretty about her, not pretty as Lucy. Her brown curls did not compare to Lucy's long, sweeping, blonde hair. Her petite, curvy form was not graceful, slender, or tall like Lucy. Her ordinary, brown eyes did not compare to Lucy's glimmering, sea green eyes. Her pale skin and shadows under her eyes were shameful in contrast to Lucy's creamy skin, and rosy cheeks. No, she would never compare to Lucy. Even in death, Lucy still won him. I'm so pathetic…

"Ma'am!" Anouk said. She had been calling to Mrs. Lovett, for a few minutes, wondering about the shop. But she didn't notice the sudden look of sadness that dawn upon the baker. "Ma'am, I need to know if you want me to—"

"Do whatever you please. I don't care." Nellie said monotonously. She turned to face Anouk. "Just… Leave me alone." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked at Anouk with such a pain-filled gaze, that she couldn't help but just leave the baker alone.

"Ma'am… I may not be whomever you're missing; but remember… you can talk to me." The young girl whispered as quietly closed the door. Behind the door, she heard shuffling and thuds. Anouk merely sighed as she turned the sign from the bright and cheerful 'open' to a slightly less cheerful, 'closed' sign. "She won't mind if I go out to market…" She supposed. And on that note, she put on a threadbare shawl, grabbed her small change purse, and left quietly. Maybe I'll find something to cheer her up…

Mrs. Lovett tore her room apart, searching for it. She had to find it… she just had to. It was the last thing she had left of him.

Ripping open a velvet pouch, she found it. Sweeney's razor. It still gleamed beautifully, although specks of blood were still on it. She clutched the tool closely to her chest, and breathed in deeply. She could almost feel the warmth of Sweeney's from when he had held it last. She hoped that she one day Sweeney would come back, and they could be happy together. She crawled into her bed, still clutching the razor, using the covers as a shield from the harsh reality of the world.

"Mr. T, I hurt too!"

Sweeney woke up with a start. He looked around, vaguely aware of his surroundings. He was lying on a warm bed, with a fireplace crackling merrily to his left. "Where… am I?" He mumbled groggily. He slowly sat up, pushing the warm covers off him reluctantly. As he tried to clear his vision, he heard a door open.

"Is everything okay in here?" A girl called out. She was currently carrying a small tray with a cup of tea and two slices of toast with butter. She walked slowly, careful not to spill anything. She walked to Sweeney, and put the tray down next to him. As she got closer, Sweeney finally got a good look at her. She looked rather young, 17, and had her long dark hair in a braid. Her eyes were a lively brown, and she was rather petite. Those eyes reminded him of somebody… "Hello? Anybody there?" The girl waved her hand in front of the barber's face, wondering what was wrong with the man.

"What?" Sweeney snapped, hating the fact that he was being interrupted in his thoughts. He saw the girl flinch, in an all-too-familiar manner. Guiltily, Sweeney cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, that was… rude of me," he said in a softer, kinder tone. He studied the girl's facial expressions, and almost sighed in relief when he saw the girl's face relax. He had felt guilty, realizing that the girl hadn't done anything to deserve any cruel behavior from him. She had only treated him with kindness, not asking anything in return. Like someone else he knew…

"'Tis fine, ya know. I'm used to it." She said blithely, waving her hand dismissively. She walked to an armchair near the fireplace, and smoothed out her skirt. "You should eat your food. Give you some energy. Found you on the brink of death, I did." She sat down and grinned at Sweeney. "Can't be having someone die on my doorstep, now can I? People'll talk. Say nasty things." She sighed. "Can't have that. Nope… Not at all." The girl looked into the fire, a distant look on her face. The flames cast a dark shadow on her features, giving her a severe look.

Sweeney fleetingly wondered about the girl, but then something more important crossed his mind. I'm hungry… He looked to his side, at the food on the tray. The barber hungrily stuffed a slice of toast down his throat. As he ate, the girl snapped out of her reverie.

She watched him hungrily eat, wondering where the strange man came from. Sweeney sighed in relief, glad that the small meal satiated his hunger. "Thank you, miss…" The man stopped in mid-sentence. He didn't even know that kind woman's name.

"Lara. But please, call me Natalie. And your name, if you'd please?" Natalie replied placidly. She fixated her brown eyes on Sweeney's charcoal ones in interest.

Natalie's brash action slightly unnerved Sweeney. "I am…"

Sweeney hesitated. What was he doing? Trusting some random woman stupidly, as if he was in the position to do something so foolish. He trusted Toby, and looked where that got him. Well, he didn't trust that idiot Toby. It was Mrs. Lovett, that illogical and absentminded woman, with her uncontrollable sympathy for small children. She had been the one that pleaded for his mercy, begged that he wouldn't kill the brat. Wait, why did he even care about Mrs. Lovett? Snapping out of his thoughts, "Sweeney Todd." he finished his statement.

"Pleasure to meet'cha, Mr. Todd." Natalie beamed. She stood up and picked up Sweeney's empty tray. "Please, rest as much as you need. I'll be back to check on you." She flashed him a congenial smile, and walked out the room.

As she left, Sweeney felt an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt a bitter taste in the back of his throat, and every breath he took was oddly cold. He closed his eyes, and hid under the covers of the bed, just hoping he could hide away from all the conflicting emotions he felt.

"We could have a life, us two," Mrs. Lovett said quietly to Sweeney. "Maybe not like you remember. Maybe not like I dreamed. But we could get by." She said, looking at Sweeney's turned back. Oh, how she wished he would understand how they were meant to be. She looked at her love, wondering what he saw outside that window. Maybe he saw the future, after the bloody judge was killed. Maybe, after the revenge thing blew over, they could be married at the sea. Maybe…

"We could have a life, us two," Sweeney heard Mrs. Lovett say. "Maybe not like you remember. Maybe not like I dreamed. But we could get by." He could hear her voice pleading, begging for a chance. He heard the sadness in her voice, that undeniable sadness that made him sick. As he looked out the window, he contemplated the idea of spending his life with Mrs. Lovett. Perhaps he wouldn't mind, seeing as he nothing to pay her, or work for to stay there. He was guaranteed a roof over his head with her. But god, how desperate she was. She was lonely, just like him; desperate for the love and attention they had been denied for so long. Knowing that, Sweeney Todd felt just a little less lonely.