-III-

Sweeney Todd's expression remained unreadable as he approached a familiar portion of the city. Fleet Street: the vilest avenue of deception and treachery in all of London, and had been the home of Benjamin Barker over a decade ago. As Todd spied the large, uniquely designed window above the pie shop, he felt curious shivers rake through him. This was odd, considering the memories he had obtained in this place were buried too deep for Todd to even recall, much less regret. After the sensation passed, Todd progressed directly to the front door of the dingy old pie shop.

He vaguely remembered this place, as well as the woman who managed it. From what he could remember she'd been a pleasant enough woman, although she was very keen on speaking without care or consideration of others around her. He had forgotten her name, but he glanced at the sign above before he entered the shop.

Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies

The indication was written there in what used to be bold yellow letters, but the color had faded substantially and had never bothered to be repainted. Sweeney Todd cautiously entered the shop. The only person present inside the small kitchen was a pale-faced woman with wild red hair. She was preoccupied with the dough she was cleaving; however her expression was that of disinterested boredom. Todd stood in the doorway a moment more, angling his brows when she did not notice his entrance. When she did look up, her face was so full of delighted surprise that Todd silently debated whether he should leave the place before she reached him.

"A customer!" The woman gasped, her tone obviously suggesting it had been awhile since anyone had dared enter.

Todd realized he wouldn't have been quick enough to flee, had he the time to make a decision. The woman, Mrs. Lovett, no doubt, was at his side in a moment. She took him by the arm and guided him to one of the booths with a wide smile.

"Here now, what's yer hurry love? Sit ye down there." Mrs. Lovett stepped back to the kitchen. "Have ye come for a pie sir? Must say I haven't seen a trace of a customer in too many weeks; pardon my enthusiasm if you please."

Mrs. Lovett pressed the lump of dough flat with a hard press of a rolling pin, sending clouds of powdered flour billowing up around her.

"Oh dear me it's been a trial in these 'ard times love. Not a scrap of meat worthy of consumption anywhere. Well, I'll bet yer hungry sir. All men who return from a long journey are usually ready to tuck in at the first morsel that comes their way."

Sweeney Todd was about to ask what made her guess he'd returned from a long journey, but before one word could escape his lips Mrs. Lovett continued on with hardly a pause.

"Though truth be told even the thinnest scarecrows don't seem to fancy my pies, and why should they. They are without a doubt the worst pies in London, and even that's polite."

Todd absently wondered why, if they were as bad as Mrs. Lovett claimed, the woman quickly presented one in front of him. As she returned to her baking, Todd studied the small pie. Truthfully, it did look rather unappetizing.

"If you doubt it sir, just take a bite." Mrs. Lovett challenged as she poured a tankard of foreign liquid into her mixture.

Sweeney Todd lifted the pie and gave it a good whiff before taking a wary bite. Todd had developed a tolerance in the consumption of many foul foods, but he could not even believe how detestably sordid the pie was.

"You see? Disgusting."

Todd was inclined to agree, and with hardly a hesitation he turned his head and spat out the foul bite he'd been mad to take in the first place. Mrs. Lovett continued speaking without apology.

"I suppose I could make up a good recipe had I some good meat. Mrs. Mooney down the street had got more business than ever, and I 'appen to know she pops pusses into 'er pies. Think of it! Gentlemen falling over themselves to taste a pussy pie. I'd not be caught dead feed'n my customers pussy pies. At any rate those pussycats are terribly quick."

Sweeney Todd raised an eyebrow.

"Well, there's no denying times is hard sir. Harder with the worst pies in London I reckon. Here ye are. Have a drop of ale, doubt it'll do much to wash that taste out though."

Todd reached for the ale with an invisible appreciation and took a long swing. It had been years since he'd had a good taste of ale, and the tang nearly caused him to recoil. When Todd glanced up once again he saw Mrs. Lovett smacking her rolling pin against her baking area with obvious irritation. As she caught his inquisitive expression she offered half a smile.

"Beg pardon sir. Got some crawlies here wot just don't take a hint."

Mrs. Lovett cleared her throat and tossed her rolling pin aside, casually dusting off her fingers.

"So, how's the ale?" Before Todd could answer she spoke again. "Well deary, I think it's gonna take more then that to be rid of that taste. Come on inside and I'll get you a nice bit of gin, eh?"

Todd didn't mind what he drank. The taste still lingering in his mouth was horrendous, but he had other things on his mind. He rose out of his seat and followed an accommodating Mrs. Lovett as she sauntered into the living room, fumbling for a glass. Todd's gaze flecked toward an empty hall, and he kept the shield of silence around him for the time being. Mrs. Lovett was oblivious to this, gracefully pouring the alcohol into a glass while chattering about a good bargain on the floral wallpaper.

"-only partly singed when the chapel burnt down." She finished as she handed her guest his drink. "There now, sit down off your bones."

Sweeney moved at a slow, deliberate pace as he swirled the gin in his cup. He took a breath.

"You've got a room over this shop, don't you? With times being so hard why not rent it out?" His voice was deeply guttural, but over years of silence his throat could not produce tones in any other way.

Mrs. Lovett didn't seem to notice his obviously brooding manner. "What, up there? Naw, no one'll go near it." Mrs. Lovett was silent for a moment, as though she was pondering something. "People think it's haunted."

Todd blinked. "Haunted?"

Mrs. Lovett strode toward him, her behavior less ostentatious than before. "Yeah, and whose to say they're wrong? You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice."

Mrs. Lovett dropped into the chair beside Todd, but the latter didn't move. He instead focused his gaze on the fire flickering in the stone hearth. When it was clear that Mrs. Lovett was hesitating to continue, Todd urged her with a tone of disinterested bluntness.

"Were you familiar with the previous tenants?"

"Yes sir, for a while that is. Before the unpleasantness, a barber used to reside there. Oh and he was a sight if I ever saw one sir. But he was transported for life. I've never seen such a beautiful face, and such an unforgettable one too." Mrs. Lovett's tone suggested she was making a private revelation, but Todd was not interested in her knowledge of his identity. Soon enough Mrs. Lovett continued. "Barker 'is name was, Benjamin Barker."

"What was his crime?" Todd asked indistinctly.

"Foolishness." Came the reply. "He had a wife, you see. Pretty, but caught up in her up in her grieving. Poor thing, could have had the moon on a string had she any sense at all. Anyway, the Judge took a fancy to her, and every day he'd stand below her window; send her flowers and silliness like that. But the fool did nothing but sulk up in her room, day in and day out." Mrs. Lovett leaned back into her chair casually. "I still remember it as though it were yesterday. The Beadle comes callin' on 'er, saying the Judge 'as seen the error of 'is ways, or some rubbish like that. So she leaves, thinkin' the Judge 'as repented. Foolish notion. Course, when she goes there they're 'aving a ball on in masks. She wandered about, tormented, and drank to drown out 'er sorrows. Well, you see sir, the Judge was there but not as contrite as the Beadle said. Poor soul, out of her wits, she wan't to match for 'im. Everyone just watched, you see, seeing it 'as nothing but good sport. All of 'em stood there and laughed…poor thing."

Sweeney Todd had been bottling his horrified aggression inside for the entirety of the story, but he could not take it any longer. He stood up in a shaking fury.

"No!" His glass shattered as it hit the floor. Todd felt an odd sensation of immense sorrow flow through him.

Something inside him had broken, a tiny presence that had been hiding from the raging shadows. This tiny presence was crying in sorrow, and even an emotionless creature like Sweeney Todd could not ignore it.

"Would no one…have mercy on her?" The voice didn't sound like his own, so rapt it was with regret and devastation.

Todd had been so engrossed in his own thoughts he had forgotten Mrs. Lovett was there. She leaned forward, her eyes wide with recognition.

"So it is you." She breathed quietly. "Benjamin Barker."

Todd's gaze remained empty, and tears began to fight their way out of his relentlessly unresponsive demeanor. However, none broke through his impeccable restraint. Yet the poor soul still locked inside him was so distraught with utter misery that the horrible emotions would not keep out of Todd's mind.

"Where is Lucy?" Todd whispered, almost unconsciously. "Where is my wife?"

There was a pause, but finally Mrs. Lovett answered his question.

"Poisoned herself. Arsenic…from the apothecary around the corner." Mrs. Lovett was silent with what seemed like regret. "Tried to stop 'er. But she wouldn't listen to me."

Todd's breaths became less steady as he attempted to sort out this tragic happenstance. His jaw was trembling slightly in response to the news, but he gave no other indication that he regretted what had occurred. Finally, Mrs. Lovett continued.

"And he's got your daughter."

At this Sweeney Todd felt his enraged emotion attack him like a strike to the stomach. His eyes glazed over not with sadness, but the only emotion he'd been able to use to shield himself during his years in prison. Rage. He gritted his teeth together in barely restrained fury.

"He?" Todd growled inhumanly. "Judge Turpin?"

"Adopted her. Like 'is own."

As Todd felt his blood boil unmercifully, unbidden thoughts surfaced in his mind.

Dead…? Lucy…? Why? Why did this happen? Wasn't my suffering enough to appease the merciless fates, why did my family have to suffer? I was not there to protect them. And Turpin has Johanna? My child… my little girl?

These thoughts belonged to Benjamin Barker. In a moment, they were extinguished, and replaced with untamable hatred that threatened to consume him. Todd strode to the window to calm his anger. Absently he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. Mrs. Lovett spoke behind him as he glared out the window.

Todd exhaled slowly. "Fifteen years… Sweating, in a living hell, on a false charge." He lowered his voice to no more then a growl. "Fifteen years dreaming…I might come home to a wife and child."

Finally Mrs. Lovett stood up, quite calm during the entire episode. She placed her hands against her hips with a slight shrug.

"Well, can't say the years 'ave been particularly kind to you, Mr. Barker."

Todd spun around, his eyes taking on a new light. He took the sorrow he felt for his family and buried it, using this unfortunate knowledge to fuel his need for vengeance.

"No." He would have himself be attached to that name any longer. "Not Barker."

Mrs. Lovett lifted one brow in confusion, and Todd reintroduced himself.

"It's Todd now…Sweeney Todd…and he will have his revenge."