Note: I'm going to move this story into the "Sweeney Todd" fanfic section under Movies within the next few days, because I think that fans of the movie version will like this story just as much as the stage fans do.

- - -

Chapter Six

- - -

I stayed in that awful chair for an unknown amount of time. I glanced down at my collar where the man had grabbed me, and I winced when I recognized the deep stain there as blood. What disgusted me, however, was that it was probably the Judge's blood, rather than the fact that it was blood itself. After some time, I slowly got up from the chair, cringing as I felt my clothes stick to the chair for a moments because of the blood. I walked absentmindedly across the room to the door, not caring that I was walking right through thick puddles of blood. I was about to walk outside when I ran into Anthony and two policemen.

"We heard screaming," One of the officers said immediately. He eyed my bloody appearance quickly. "Are you all right, miss?"

"Johanna," Anthony reached out a hand to touch my arm comfortingly. "Johanna, are you all right?"

"Yes…yes, I'm fine," I managed to say after a moment.

"What happened 'ere?" The second officer asked; he was a bit rougher than his partner.

"I…I…"

How could I begin to explain what I had seen?

A howl of pure anguish from below saved me from explanation. The officers exchanged a look, glanced at me, and then motioned for Anthony and me to follow them out the door. Anthony threw an arm around me as we descended first into the pie shop, then followed the noise to the lower bake house. I held my breath as the kinder officer led the way deeper into the bake house. The stench that increased as we grew closer to the lower levels was nothing compared to that of Fogg's Asylum, but it was enough to make the rougher officer curse.

We all forgot about the stench when we came upon the gory sight in the bake house that changed my life forever.

In front of us was an enormous black oven; wisps of black smoke escaped from small cracks along the door. Under other circumstances, I probably would have been amazed by the scope of the oven, but my attention was elsewhere that night. To the other side of the oven, there was the end of what looked like a shoot that led upstairs. I gazed at the lifeless bodies of the Beadle and the Judge, and I knew that the shoot led upstairs to the barbershop. At the sight of the pools of blood and the disgusting faces of the Beadle and the Judge, I again felt the urge to be sick. Taking deep breaths, I regarded the rest of the room. A few yards away from the Beadle and the Judge, there were two other bodies. The man who had threatened me upstairs was hunched over the body of a woman that I knew to be a beggar. I recognized her from when she would beg for coins outside the Judge's house.

I vaguely felt Anthony's arm tighten around me, but I did not move into his embrace. I did not hide my face against his shoulder. Instead, my gaze turned from the bodies to where the two officers were looking. They regarded a young boy at a meat grinder in the corner. His hair was completely white, but his eyes were surprisingly calm. He regarded the officers quietly for a moment, then said, "You will pardon me, gentlemen, but you may not enter here. Oh, no! Me mistress don't let no one enter here, for, you see, sirs, there's work to be done, so much work."

He grasped the handle on the grinder and slowly turned it, turning his head towards the machine. His voice was soft, but somehow steady and certain as he continued, "Three times. That's the secret. Three times through for them to be tender and juicy. Three times through the grinder. Smoothly, smoothly…"

"God…" The kinder officer murmured as his eyes went from the bodies to the meat grinder. "God almighty…"

The rougher officer seemed to come out of his shock. He marched over to the boy and grabbed his arm. The boy cried out in pain as the officer yelled at him, "What have you done? What in God's name have you done?"

"Don't!" I cried out as I fully registered the boy's white hair and the vacant look in his eyes. I recognized the boy as kin to the inmates at Fogg's Asylum. "He's…he's insane. He doesn't know what's happening."

The rough officer looked at me in amazement for a moment, then he grabbed the young boy's hand and held it up for me to see. There was blood streaked liberally on it.

"You can call that insane, all right!" The officer snarled. "God almighty is right."

"Mr. Todd," Anthony said suddenly.

"What?" I turned in his arms to regard him. I followed Anthony's gaze to the body of the man from upstairs. "That's Mr. Todd?"

Anthony nodded and left my arms. He lifted the man's head to regard his face, which was deathly pale. Anthony then looked to the woman in Todd's arms. "That's…that's the beggar woman…I've seen her so many times before…"

"'Course you have," The rough officer had come over to us, while the kind officer spoke in soft, quiet tones to the young boy in the corner. "She's been around this area for years…'round fifteen I 'spect."

"You knew her well, then?" I asked softly, feeling sudden sympathy for the woman I had never taken the time to regard before. The kind officer spoke then, saying that he was going for more help.

"Knew of 'er," The officer clarified, bending down to brush the hair off the woman's face. "Yeah…that's 'er. Crazy hag. Lucy Barker as was." The man sighed, and then turned to look at the other bodies. "This is going to take a few hours…I…er, well…"

"You need us to stay?" Anthony asked in a resigned sort of way.

The officer nodded. "Just some questions, once we get the inspectors here."

"Of course," Anthony kept his eyes on me, but I gave him a bracing smile to show that I was all right. For a few minutes, none of us spoke. The officer moved to inspect the bodies of the Beadle and the Judge. Anthony and I continued to look at the bodies of the beggar woman and Todd. There was something about both of them that I could place…I could not take my eyes off of them, and it was for a reason other than the blood they were soaked in.

The silence was disrupted by the entrance of the kind officer, in addition to four others and two inspectors. One inspector moved with the officers to investigate the young boy and the bodies of the Judge and the Beadle, ignoring the other two victims. The kind and rough officers moved back towards Anthony and me.

The rough officer's eyes went wide when he took a closer look at Todd. "Jack, mate…take a look at this."

The kind officer looked up, glanced back at the young boy, then walked over. "What is it…oh my God."

"What?" Anthony asked, impatience edging into his voice.

"That's…that's Benjamin Barker, isn't it?" The kind officer said. "He was shipped off to Australia, though, wasn't he? Years ago…"

"Right…" The rough officer looked amazed.

"Did you say Benjamin Barker?" Anthony asked, frowning.

"Sure," The kind officer replied, peering closely at Todd's…Barker's face. "Looks so different now though…used to be a good-looking chap…but then he was sentenced to life in Australia fifteen years ago. I suppose years in prison will rough you up."

The rough officer blinked in amazement. "I wonder…God, to come back and find your wife like that…" He gestured to the beggar woman.

I frowned and shook my head. "She wasn't always like this? What exactly happened to her?"

"Went completely mad," The kind officer said softly. "I don't blame her. Barker was a good man. I used to come to him for a shave every once in a while…I couldn't believe it when they sentenced him." He took a deep breath and then continued, "But…his wife couldn't take it. From what I heard, she tried to kill herself, but all it did was make her weak in the head…and…so…" His voice trailed off.

"Did…did they have any children?" Anthony asked carefully, avoiding my gaze when I cast him a questioning look.

The kind officer looked startled by the question. "As a matter of fact, they did. A daughter. I think she was taken in by…" He glanced over his shoulder at the corpse of the Judge.

In my mind's eye, I could see it all happen. An innocent man dragged off…a wife in despair, swallowing poison…the stench of death…

Oh, God.

Finally, like I'd been wanting to for the last few hours, I leaned over and retched up the contents of my stomach.

"Johanna, love," Anthony whispered to me as he rubbed my back soothingly. He gently pulled me back against him, wrapping an arm around me. He held me until my breathing returned to normal, then he held me at arm's length to examine my face. "Are you all right, now?" He winced after he asked, obviously aware of how ridiculous the question was, but I knew what he meant.

"No…no, I'm not all right," I looked down at the bodies in front of us. "They're…they're my…"

"God almighty," The kind officer said once again, glancing from the beggar woman to me. "God…"

"They're my parents," I whispered, crouching down next to the side of my mother that was not occupied by my father. I looked down at my mother's wasted face. I brushed away the rest of the hair that was in her face. Her skin was dried out and filthy, and there were several sores around her chapped mouth. The tears ran down my face unchecked as I thought of the picture upstairs of my beautiful young mother. My parents…I then moved over to regard my father, whose body had fallen into place beside my mother. His face was so covered with blood and filth that I could not get a good look at it.

I managed to tear my eyes away for a moment to regard Anthony. When I finally spoke, my voice was accusing, "You knew?"

"I suspected," Anthony replied quietly. "When Mr. Todd…when your father and I arrived in London, he told of a barber who had been separated from his wife by a Judge who…" At that point, Anthony glanced at my mother and flushed.

"Who wanted the wife," I finished for him, looking down at my poor mother. Anthony nodded, and reached out to me. "Johanna-"

"Sir," One of the other officers motioned for Anthony to approach him and one of the inspectors. Anthony nodded, and then glanced at me again. "Johanna." I could not look at him. Sighing, Anthony stood and walked over to the other men. For several moments, hours, I sat there, gazing down at my parents.

Suddenly, the other inspector came over. "Disgusting…what monsters."

"Be quiet," I snapped at him, cradling my father's head in my lap.

The inspector frowned. "Excuse me, miss, but this man was clearly a murderer. He was the barber from upstairs, all these people have had their throats slit, and that shoot over there looks like it goes right up to his barbershop. If you want to add insult to injury, there are human remains in that meat grinder over there." He looked oddly satisfied when he said this. "And as for this…woman…" He nudged my mother's head with the tip of his shoe, and something snapped inside of me.

"Don't you touch her!" I screamed.

Anthony, who had been quietly talking to the other inspector, looked over at me in concern when he heard my voice.

The officers around me looked abashed, but the inspector merely blinked. "All I'm saying is, these people are hardly innocent."

"Neither are the men over there," I gestured over to the Beadle and the Judge.

The inspector snorted in amusement, but his eyes narrowed. "That's Beadle Bamford and Judge Turpin over there, miss. You might show some respect."

I laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "Ah, yes…how silly of me to deny the great Judge Turpin the respect he deserves." I had never sounded so bitter, so resentful in all my life. I looked up at the inspector, my eyes blazing. "Do not speak to me of monsters, sir."

The inspector looked at me more closely. "Wait…you're his ward, aren't you?"

"I was," I replied darkly, turning my attention back to my parents.

"You aren't sorry?" The inspector pressed, gesturing towards the carnage behind him. I hated the inspector with a passion.

"Leave her be," The kind officer hissed at the inspector. "For God's sake, those are her parents."

The inspector looked distinctly bewildered. "Excuse me?"

I looked at the kind officer pleadingly. He nodded and led the inspector over to another corner of the room, explaining everything to him in hushed tones.

The rest of the evening was a blur. I was questioned gently by the other inspector, but I could not offer any help. After a few hours, the inspector told me that the bodies would have to be moved to the morgue.

"You'll want to make arrangements…," His voice trailed off, and I nodded.

"Yes…I'd like to clean all that blood off," I gestured towards my parents. "And I should get them other clothes." I paused, and then spoke more to myself than the inspector, "I want them to look like they did before."

The inspector looked at me quizzically. "I was speaking of Judge Turpin…you were his ward, were you not?"

I fixed him with a dark gaze. "I was…and I don't care what happens to him."

The inspector took a deep breath and continued on as if I hadn't spoken, "It will take a few days for your inheritance to come through, but when it does, it will be more than enough to take care of arrangements for the bodies."

"Inheritance?" I asked vaguely. Anthony came to my side and put a comforting arm around me. That time, I did not pull away.

"Sure," The inspector replied. "He probably left everything to you. It'll be at least fifty thousand pounds."

"That's decent of him," Anthony said without humor or generosity.

"I can check in at the morgue tomorrow?" I asked quietly, watching the coroners take the bodies out one by one.

"Yes," The inspector replied easily.

"Would it be possible to take care of the bodies myself?" I asked slowly, casually.

"Well, er…I suppose," The inspector said, visibly caught off guard. "You'll have to ask the coroner, but-"

"Thank you," I cut him off. Though feeling a bit guilty about my abruptness, I changed the subject and gestured towards the young boy, who was being guided into a straightjacket. "What will happen to him?"

"Fogg's Asylum," The inspector said brusquely, clearly tiring of my odd questions.

"Oh, isn't there another asylum?" I asked, looking desperately at the poor boy.

"Afraid not, miss," The inspector said, frowning. "And anyway…he's probably an accomplice in all of this. He gets what he deserves."

"But he's just a child…," I pleaded, but the inspector finally turned his back on me with an impatient sigh.

Anthony tightened his hold on me. "Love, let's go." My gaze flickered between the boy and the coroner, who was taking my mother's body out. Anthony turned me in his arms so that I had to look at him. He spoke more firmly: "Johanna, there's nothing you can do for any of them now."

I nodded, knowing that he was telling the truth. But I watched the young boy's dull eyes as his arms were stuffed into the straightjacket with a surge of compassion. He was caged, as I had once been. But unlike me, the boy could not fight, he could not bat his wings against the cage. The boy's eyes met mine for a moment, but there was no recognition in them. Then one of the officers led him away roughly, not caring that he was probably bruising the poor boy. The act made me start to cry again, but that time I feared that I would be unable to stop.

I buried my face against Anthony's chest and thought of dozens of people: My mother, my father, the Judge, the Beadle, the young boy, Anthony, myself.

I wept for all of us.

- - -

It's always bothered me that absolutely NO ONE in London realizes that Sweeney Todd is Benjamin Barker. He just happens to show up and live in the exact same place that Barker did and…no one. But I guess the everyday Londoner in this case is more likely to recognize an ex-convict than a Judge or Beadle. :P And Johanna had to figure out the truth somehow, so there you go.