A/N: Thank you, thank you tonnes for the reviews! And to the silent readers! It helps me know I'm going in the right direction with this fic.

On that note, don't expect this to be fluffy Sweenett. It's going to be unrequited love for Mrs Lovett for a while. Mr Todd isn't going to fall for Mrs Lovett overnight people! =D.

It's going to take a brain transplant for that to happen….that, or a little sea-side change to help out our mourning Mr T.

I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character AND holding the suspense – BUT –

Don't be afraid to be honest with me! I want this fic to be the best it can be. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: A Trip Down Nightmare Lane

It appeared that Mrs Lovett's Guardian Angel (or Demon) was watching over her rather intently, because a lot of things were running in her favour that evening. Or early morning, depending on whether you were the glass half-full or half-empty sort of person. Mrs Lovett was definitely the glass half-full sort of person, as we have seen so far.

Getting back to Mrs Lovett's exceedingly good luck – she was lucky, for one, that Constable Lithgow had missed the trio fleeing the pie shop by precisely twelve minutes. She was also lucky that after about three o 'clock in the morning, Mr Todd had more in common with a bucket of left-over lard than a blood-thirsty murderer. In other words, he wasn't a morning person at all, and required about three shots of unflavoured tea before he would even think about who he was going to murder next.

Mrs Lovett was also lucky that Toby, and herself were able to last the entire two-and-a-half hour walk through the backstreets of London without uttering so much as a peep. It required all of Mrs Lovett's will-power, since she happened to be a morning person; and it also required all Toby's will-power, since he was itching to scream bloody murder to anyone who would listen. Yet somehow, maybe thanks to that invisible Guardian of Mrs Lovett's, the trio managed to walk quite amiably through the shadowy streets.

Dawn was slowly approaching, highlighting Mr Todd's white streak in his otherwise jet hair, and the sallow bags under his eyes. Crickets, Mrs Lovett thought. Poor man needs a good doze. Looks like 'e's taken a long trip down the Devil's Inferno an' come back again.

Which was a fairly accurate observation, considering the happenings on Fleet Street of late.

Mrs Lovett took a sharp right off the main road. Even by five in the morning, the place was filling up with cars and carriages. Man and boy ambled after her, like a pair of dogs following their master.

"Scuse me Mum," said Toby, interrupting her thoughts and attracting livid glares from Mr Todd.

If there was one thing Sweeney hated possibly more than the sound of whistling kettles and Mrs Lovett's voice combined, it was the sound of that brat whining. He was already swiftly regretting his decision to let Mrs Lovett keep the boy.

''Mum,'' Toby repeated, tugging on Mrs Lovett's skirts and taking no notice of Mr Todd's clenched fists, ''aren't we 'eadin' in the wrong direction? Train station's that way.''

Toby pointed down the main road they had been heading.

''Right you are Toby,'' Mrs Lovett replied, patting him condescendingly on the head. ''But we aren't ready just yet. Use yer 'ead love. Coppers'll be crawlin' everywhere. We'll be needin' disguises.''

Toby stopped stubbornly on the edge of the alleyway, crossing his arms.

Mrs Lovett sighed. She had lots of different sighs, but this one Toby knew well. It was the type of sigh she gave after baking two hundred pies in the space of an hour. He knew that sigh meant business.

They walked about fifty more paces, past Mr Hardwray's Haberdashery, past Mr Perrywinkle's Shoe-Repair, and a series of other feminine, frivolous shops that Mr Todd sneered at now, but had in his youth spent a great deal of time in, owing to him and Lucy being newlyweds, and he wanting to indulge his young bride.

''An' here we are!'' Mrs Lovett came to a stop before one of the last shops that riddled the side-street. It was less fancy-looking than the others, poorly-lit and run down from thirty years of disrepair, but it was a decent shop. Mrs Lovett should have known, for she had once worked there, all those years ago.

Back when Turpin was on the prowl, coming in with that toad-infested Beadle. Scouring shops like hers for the prettiest young women to add to his conquests.

It was common knowledge that mothers would keep their daughters home from work if they'd received prior knowledge that the Judge was prowling the streets. The worst sort, Nellie reflected, were the mothers that struck a deal with the Judge to arrange a meeting with their daughters – for a tidy price. Mrs Lovett had thanked her mysterious Guardian that her mother was dead and buried five years prior to the Judge showing an interest in her as a young shop assistant, or she too might have gone the way of the other women – too weak and simpering to fend off Turpin's advances.

Mrs Lovett shook her head. She leapt nimbly up onto the step and rang the ball. That was all in the past now.

''Now, you two,'' Mrs Lovett addressed Toby and Mr T, ''I want you on yer best behaviour.''

Toby nodded solemnly. Mr T wasn't even listening. He was staring at Mr Hardwray's Haberdashery down the road, imagining it was fifteen years ago and Lucy was about to step out of the shop.

''Mr T!'' Mrs Lovett clapped her hands impatiently like a circus trainer. ''Did you 'ear?''

For a brief moment, Sweeney thought it was his Lucy calling him. His ears tracked the sound, and his gaze fell upon the uncouth, loquacious woman before him. Wrong dream, he thought miserably.

''Anything you say,'' he whispered hoarsely, anything to shut the woman up.

''Good.'' Mrs Lovett was beaming again. She didn't know exactly why she was coming to this shop, the shop from her youth. There were a dozen less reputable, cheaper places to choose from.

The man and boy watched as she pressed her pale face against the frosted window, knocking and ringing the bell urgently. ''Come on!''

At last, after ten minutes of knocking and ringing, a face appeared from the inside of the shop. It was a woman, wiping sleep from her bleary eyes. When she saw Mrs Lovett, her eyes popped open in surprise, and she rushed to unlock the door. Mrs Lovett also couldn't hide her surprise. She certainly wasn't expecting –

''Nellie!'' The woman swung the tinkling door open. ''You look frightful!'' It was Mona, a ghost from the past, suddenly come flying back into the present.

Mrs Lovett frowned slightly, but shook it off. It was true, Nellie wasn't the pink-cheeked, eye-battering nymphet she had flattered herself for being in her youth. She also knew that anything Mona said wasn't meant unkindly. She was just being herself – honest. Something Mrs Lovett longed to be, but couldn't.

If only you knew what I've been up to, Mona, Mrs Lovett thought while smiling at her old friend. You'd run screamin' out the shop. Oh well, some things can't be 'elped. A woman's gotta earn 'er livin' any way she can. Some do it on the streets. Some do it Mona's way – all hard-workin'an respectable-like with a shop. But this weren't the age where all women could make it the respectable way. Mrs Lovett did it Mrs Lovett's way. And if that involved her baking a few of her famous pies, so be it.

'' 'ow long's it been, us two?'' Nellie put on a maudlin face as she went to embrace Mona. Both drew back, and looked each other over.

''Can't remember!'' Mona chuckled. ''Well, look at your pipes!" she lifted Mrs Lovett's red curls under her hand. ''Wish me own 'air looked that fresh. Come in, come in!"

Well, Mrs Lovett thought, surveying her friend with a smug smile, least I'm not the only one who looks worse for wear. Mona had once been considered the local beauty, something Mrs Lovett had always been a little jealous of. You certainly couldn't say that now. Nellie found herself staring at the woman's bulging neck, the paunchy stomach. Her once dark hair was now scraggly and greying. The large, seductive eyes had now faded to something ordinary and crowed; the wide, exotic smile now showed yellowed, missing teeth. It was hard to believe her friend was barely forty years old. If Mona had looked like that twenty years back, the Judge would certainly have let her alone.

Suddenly Mona paused, seeing Mr Todd and Toby standing uncomfortably on the doorstop. Her face broke into a smile, and Nellie caught a glimpse of how her friend had used to look.

''So Nellie's found 'erself a family!' She waved the two floatsam and jetsam in. 'Last time we saw each other you was with Alfred!' Mona winked and shut the shop door behind her.

Mrs Lovett blushed. There was only one thing that could possibly embarrass her, and that subject started with an M and ended in a T. ''I was – 'e – wot I mean is –''

''What my dear wife means is, yes. She has since remarried.''

Mr Todd stepped forward, placing a gloved hand on Mrs Lovett's shoulder. A wry, almost devilish smile crossed his face, but those eyes remained closed off from the rest of the world, ever serious.

Both women turned and stared. Mona was too busy staring herself to notice Mrs lovett's surprise. There was something about Sweeney Todd, no matter who you were, that both captivated and completely unnerved you.

Mr Todd tightened his grip, imperceptibly, on Mrs Lovett's shoulder. Their eyes met briefly in unspoken agreement. Plan the plan.

Mrs Lovett wasn't deluded. She was well aware Mr Todd was only acting out of his own selfish need for self-preservation. But she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It was hard, keeping a sinking ship afloat all by yourself.

''Mona,'' she said, at last finding her nerve, ''this is Mr Todd, me 'usband. And this,'' she said, suddenly remembering Toby in this mess, ''is our boy, Toby.''

She pushed Toby forward, removing the cap from Toby's head. Toby scowled, looking as if he were about to correct them. Mr Todd also scowled. Pretending to be Mrs Lovett's husband was sentence enough, but the boy – ''Mr T's not me – '' Toby began.

''Well love, don't just stand there with ya mouth open,'' Mrs Lovett said, her locomotive mouth rescuing them. 'Go an' see if the butcher's opened. I want a pound of mince, an' be quick, or there'll be a wallopin'!''

Toby rushed out the door, averting his eyes from Mr Todd's penetrating stare. Of course, the pound of mince was really code for, keep watch for the filth. Toby knew that they didn't have long to catch the train. An' with morning on the way, it was going to be tight hidin' from the law.

* * *

''So Mrs Todd,'' Mona said, placing her hands on the scratched counter, ''what brings you 'ere?''

Mrs Lovett opened her mouth to answer, and shut it when she felt Mr T's lingering stare on the back of her head.

''Business,'' Mr Todd replied, the firm edge in his voice unmistakable.

''It's urgent,'' Mrs Lovett chimed in.

''Well, in that case.'' Mona's friendly charm vanished, and she withdrew the keys to the cash register. ''What can I interest yers in?''

Mr Todd glared at her. If there was anything Sweeney Todd had learnt after fifteen years in a dead-hole colony, it was that even old friends weren't trustworthy. He didn't like the woman. Not that Sweeney took a shine to anyone, unless she happened to have blonde hair and went by the name of Lucy or Joanna; but even in his vague, traumatized state, he could tell Mona's smile held cracks in it. And not just from her missing teeth. She was hiding something. Mr Todd knew from experience.

''Anything – '' he began.

'' – somethin' classy,'' Mrs Lovett cut him off. 'Trip to the seaside, you know.''

The grip tightened on her shoulder, but Mrs Lovett couldn't help herself. Mona was her closest friend, and seeing her now was just like seeing the woman risen from the dead. Each of them deserved a little chit-chat. Mr T could kill her later. Well, not literal, Mrs Lovett thought, frowning. She wasn't about to forget how close he'd come to doing just that.

''This'll only take ya ten minutes,'' Mona said, eyeing Mr Todd. ''E's a restless one, ain't 'e?''

Mrs Lovett leaned forward, shrugging off Mr Todd's hand. It was a lot harder ignoring that stare.

'''E hates fine shops. Wouldn't know taste if it jumped 'is bones.''

Mona nodded knowingly. ''Me 'usband's the same.''

Mrs Lovett's gaze darted to the gold sea pearl ring wedged on Mona's fat left finger.

The conversation died. Mrs Lovett found herself thinking back to her past, something she didn't do all that often. Usually she left the brooding to Mr T. But here Mona was, this gross older twin of a woman once known for her open, charming beauty. Too bad for Mona she had been too open.

Mrs Lovett hadn't said much that day, back when she and Mona were only nineteen.

Nellie had been at the back the shop, fitting an elderly woman, when the two 'gentlemen' walked in. Turpin and the Beadle; twenty years younger but no less repulsive. He'd noticed Mona straight away, all dark eyes and youthful skin, fussing with the clothing display at the front display. He'd expressed interest in buying a new suit, Mona had gone to fetch Nellie, but Nellie was busy.

In all, the visit had lasted well over an hour. By the time they left, Nellie was furious. Mona was in love. With the Judge, of all the horrible human beings!

''Don't be daft,' Nellie had chided. ''E does 'is rounds to every pretty shop girl this side of London. Don't ya know 'e goes after us poor women like flies?''

''Nellie, poor green Nellie,' Mona had chanted, her dark eyes sparkling, 'don't be all mad-like just coz the Judge loves me an' not you.''

And it had done no good, Nellie warning her every time the great Judge Turpin had done his rounds for the afternoon, presenting the silly girl with flowers or a pretty trinket or two. Not that it took much to please Mona. Everyone was always falling in love with Mona, and not just for her beauty. She had inherited her Spanish father's dark complexion, and in a century when Ladies spent all their time coveting corpse-pale skin, Mona should have been rejected. But she wasn't. She was like a strange exotic flower that flourished in a garden of pretty tamed flowers. Men were entranced by this, and by her openness, which they took for sign that she was in love with them. How was Mona to know that the Judge was nothing like those other young flirts she knew?

''You don't believe me, do ya. Bout me 'avin' a 'usband?'' Mona, the gross, aged shop-keeper, slapped her hand on the counter.

Mrs Lovett found herself shaking her head and staring at the woman Mona was now. ''Your 'usband?''

Mona nodded.

'''ow's that possible? Last time I heard you was – ''

The dark woman stiffened. ''Put me in the quack 'ouse they did.''

Mrs Lovett gasped. ''So it's true. But 'ow?''

''Ere,'' she said suddenly, fishing out a neatly folded suit from the shelf behind her and handing it to Mr Todd. ''That's about your size. Fittin' room's behind them curtains.'' Mona pointed to the grubby red curtains at the back of the shop.

''An' this is for the little 'un,' Mona finished, placing a smaller suit on the counter. 'Wot about you then?' She looked Mrs Lovett up and down. 'Wot you wear?' Mona turned her back to Mrs Lovett and began searching through the shelves of women's clothing.

''Your 'usband?'' Mrs Lovett repeated it, not sure if she had heard correctly.

Mona flashed the gold wedding ring on stubby hand. ''owed I get this you mean?''

For a minute Mrs Lovett didn't speak. ''To-by!''

Toby came rushing in.

''Try them things on love.'' Mrs Lovett showed the bundle in the boy's arm. ''An' be quick about it!''

Mona stared at Toby. ''You're on the run from the law, ain't yas?'' Mona looked Mrs Lovett straight in the eye, just as Mr Todd came out from behind the curtains, fully dressed in a ridiculous rich man's suit. And that dangerous look was in his eyes.

Mrs Lovett knew he was probably contemplating how to kill off her friend.

''Can't say I blame yas,'' Mona continued stupidly. ''I was on the run from that awful Judge half me life.'' Fortunately, Mona was a fast talker like Mrs Lovett. That was what probably saved her life.

''The Judge?'' Mr Todd walked between them, the predator suddenly awoken.

''Nellie knows.'' Mona looked up Mr Todd and smiled, taking his sudden interest for friendless instead of murderous intent.

She was always doing that, Mrs Lovett thought.

''When Judge Turpin wants somethin','' Mona continued, ''e makes it 'appen. Nearly 'appened to Nellie too, only she 'ad more brains than me an' got 'erself married quick-smart.''

''What about the Judge?'' Mr Todd was leaning over the counter all-menacin' like.

''Mum? Wot's goin' on?'' A girl emerged from the back of the shop, and Mrs Lovett nearly choked. She was the spitting image of Mona in her youth, the same large, luminous eyes framed within a dark, slender face.

''Nothin' child,'' Mona chided sternly, but Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett had already put two-and-two together. ''Go see to the boy,'' she said to her daughter, ''make sure 'e's fitted right.''

''Yes mum.'' The frightened girl curtsied before disappearing.

''E's her daughter!'' Mrs Lovett blurted out. ''The Judge's daughter!''

''That's right,'' Mona managed with a certain amount of dignity.

Mr Todd looked as if he might kill somebody, or have a stroke. Good thing the Judge is already dead, Mrs Lovett thought, or 'e'd be rushin' out there now with 'is razors.

''Let's make this quick, will we?'' Mona blinked away a few tears. She searched among the shelves. Eventually she found a navy dress and bonnet in Mrs Lovett's size, placing it on the counter. ''You can 'ave it for free. It ain't your colour, but least no one'll recognize ya.''

''Owed you get out of the mad 'ouse then?'' Mrs Lovett was more than astonished. She was impressed. It was common knowledge that in all the years of Bedlam's establishment, only a handful of patients had ever escaped.

''After the Judge 'ad 'is way with me, I found I 'ad the child in me belly. I should've listened to ya Nellie. I went to 'is 'ouse, but 'e refused ta see me. The Beadle chased me off with 'is cane, like I was some street tart. Wot could I do? I lost me job, I 'ad no money. So depressed I was, I wouldn't come out ta eat or wash meself. Landlord 'ad me packed off ta the crazy 'ouse. Turned out that place was a blessin' in disguise. The doctor who cared for me was so good an' kind. Wasn't long before we was in love and 'e 'ad me out of that place an' we was married before the year was out. An' right up til 'is death a year ago, 'e raised Jerusha like she was 'is own daughter.''

Mr Todd had been listening gravely. Now he went to the curtained shop-front window, his back facing them. ''Judge Turpin has paid for his crimes. He won't be troubling you again.'' Mr Todd gave a brief, enigmatic nod, then turned to face the window. ''You have five minutes to dress, Mrs Todd.''

Mrs Lovett hoisted the dress and bonnet in her arms to hide her reddening face. Only Mrs Lovett could tell you how much she'd have given to have that title. It always seemed fate was playing cruel tricks on her (Mrs Lovett didn't really believe in God, or if she did, she hadn't said her prayers in a long time). She could be Mr Todd's wife, but only pretend-like, in her dreams, or this little farce in the shop. Never the real thing.

''Nellie, go on off with your day-dreamin' self.'' Mona was looking at her, smiling encouragingly.

Nellie squeezed her friends' hand, and their eyes locked across the counter. ''She's a beauty. Keep 'er safe.''

Five minutes later, Mrs Lovett was dressed in her staid old maid's outfit, ready to join Toby and Mr Todd waiting by the shop front. Not even a stray ringlet escaped the tight confines of her bonnet, and Mr Todd wondered if she would gain a quieter, more subdued personality to match her dress.

''It's good ta know you're alive,'' Mrs Lovett whispered to the Mona. ''Now you two,'' she clamoured, her voice raising five decibels as she shooed her two companions out the door.''Don't stand there waitin' for the century ta close. Make 'aste! We gotta a train ta catch!''

Mrs Lovett raced them out the shop and down the side-street.

No, Mr Todd realised. A new and improved personality for Mrs Lovett wasn't likely. Not unless her corpse could be reanimated. Then, he thought wickedly, grinning for the first time since leaving Mrs Lovett's pie shop, at least she wouldn't speak.

Yes! *Pumps hands in the air* Another chapter done! Now, reviews please?