Chapter 9

After Mrs. Lovett had told the barber what had happened to her during the years that they had been apart, there was a long silence. She didn't mind however, even though she was curious to know what was going on in Sweeney's mind now that he knew what her life had been like.

But she had gotten used to not knowing what Mr. Todd was thinking and she didn't have much trouble with that in the current situation. The way he was holding her spoke of regret and sympathy, of apologies he would possibly never make. It seemed to her as if wanted to make up to her somewhat by protecting her – not just now, but forever.

That thought was an irrational one indeed. There was no way for her to be entirely sure that he had her best interest in mind at the current moment, let alone for time that was still to come. But she craved to think that he would never abandon her again, that he would be at her side now, that she never had to face the world all by herself again.

As they were sitting together, she continued leaning against him and it felt to her that he was supporting so much more than just her body. Making herself more comfortable, she tilted her head back further to rest it on his shoulder. There had been days that even she would've thought twice about exposing her throat to him like that, but now she did so without hesitation, even though she knew that one of the razors that he had once trusted more than anything else was still within his reach.

There had been perhaps no better opportunity for him to kill her than the one he was having now. It would be perfect – he had earned her complete trust, had made her feel more at ease than she had been in a very long time, and his house was currently even more quiet and abandoned than the alley where they had been earlier that day. She was rather sure that he would've considered this to be the perfect revenge for long years, to use her own feelings and weaknesses for him against her.

There were no hands around her throat however, no knife between her ribs. All he did was move his arms around her again, his entwined hands resting on her now filled stomach. Perfectly content, the baker placed her hands on his own, surprised by the warmth she felt in them. It almost seemed to her as if Mr. Todd was getting back to life now that she was as well.

It was at that moment that she realized that she had no idea what he called himself these days. It was very unlikely that he was still referring to himself as Sweeney Todd – that way he probably wouldn't be sitting there with her. When she had lived in Newcastle, she had went back to using her maiden name, insisting to her sister that she no longer wished to carry her late husband's name now that he was dead, leaving her with nothing but debts and his name.

She didn't know however to what extent the barber had changed his identity again. No one in the house had addressed him with his actual name, or at least, not as far as she could remember. If they would've had, she probably would've remembered it. The name he used for himself was nothing more than that – a name – but she felt the urge to know it. It seemed only appropriate that she would know what to call him now that they were together like this.

"Did you change your name again when you became a soldier?"

"I did," he said, after a short moment of consideration. "And I didn't."

"What kind of answer is that?"

She wasn't in the mood for games, not now that she was feeling content in a way that she had not often done before. Sensing this, his next answer was a much more serious one.

"Barker."

"Barker?"

In spite of the sternness of his voice, she thought for a moment that he was fooling her. She had expected a lot of different names – except for the real one, the name that had been his when he had known nothing of the tragedies and pain that would be inflicted upon him later in his life.

"It seemed suitable. I had become Sweeney Todd to avenge my family. When that was completed and I couldn't be him any longer, I had to transform myself into someone else. But there was no one else. I eventually realized that I hadn't changed as much as I had always thought. The anger and hate for Turpin had altered who I was, but hadn't changed me into a completely new person who was immune to pain and suffering. When the Judge was dead at last and I allowed myself to feel, the absence of my wife and child hurt just as much as when I had still been Benjamin Barker. And especially when my anger began to fade, I couldn't deny to myself any longer that Sweeney Todd had never been more than a creation of my own mind to become the person I had to be in order to take vengeance."

Mrs. Lovett considered those words carefully. She had never really thought about the barber's transformation that way. It made a lot of sense to her now though. She probably wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen him now, but almost since the moment she had met him again that day, he had seemed to be a combination of the two men that she had known him to be in earlier phases of his life.

"Benjamin Barker?" she asked, wondering whether he had picked up his old first name again as well.

She didn't fail to notice that the way she pronounced his name – hopeful, but with some suspicion – like she had done ten years ago, when he had stepped into her pie shop again for the very first time.

"I intended to. But after all what had happened, I wasn't truly Benjamin Barker anymore, just like I was no longer Sweeney Todd. I had become something that was in between them."

The baker nodded. She understood now; just like she had intuitively sensed earlier, the man who he was become – the man who he truly was – was somewhere in between the two extremes of his earlier life.

"Sweeney," she whispered, knowing now without having to ask what his current – his real – first name was.

"Yes," he replied. "That's right... Eleanor."

The baker shivered with delight when her first name rolled off his lips for the very first time, even though it wasn't the version of her name that she wanted to her.

"Do me a favor," she said, trying to sound as if she didn't truly care as long as he just kept talking to her like that, his voice light and almost... seductive. "I'm not that old. Please, call me Nellie."

"No indeed, you're not," he said, his voice alone making her tremble lightly, "Nellie."

She smiled broadly, ignoring the need to pinch her own arm to make sure that she wasn't lost in another daydream after all. She also closed her eyes, hoping with all what was left of her that there could be more moments like this – a whole lot more – because this what she had lived for for so long, never quite feeling believing that it would be ever be more than a fantasy.

"Sweeney," she said, just so she could say his name – his first name – and he could react to it.

"Nellie," he replied almost immediately.

The baker grinned. She felt like a child playing games – this wasn't much unlike Teddy's favorite when he had been a bit younger – but she couldn't care less. And neither did Sweeney, judging from the way he moved his head closer to hers, whispering her name in her ear.

They remained sitting like that. Mrs. Lovett wished that she had some sort of special kind of bottle to store this moment in, so she could keep it with her forever and experienced it again whenever she wished.

There was a mischievous little voice in the back of her head however, telling her that she perhaps wouldn't need such a bottle after all – because moments like this would be hers for the rest of her life.

It was something that she found difficult to believe however, no matter how much she wanted it to be true. But she could always hope, and she would do so – but not now. At this moment she was enjoying every second that she shared with the barber as much as she could, trying to remember as much of it as she could so she could at least carry the memory with her forever, no matter what was going to happen next.

"Do you still speak to Anthony?" the baker asked, suddenly recalling that there had happened more than murder during the last night that they had been together. "And your daughter? How is she?"

The atmosphere in the room changed as soon as she asked those questions. She regretted it for a moment – there could be nothing better than the almost playful and tempting moment that she had just shared with the barber – but she also knew very well that there was a lot that they needed to talk about if they actually wanted to grow closer to each other – and she most certainly did want that.

"I have to admit that I don't know," Sweeney said, the regret in his voice very clear. "Anthony never told me where he was going to take Johanna. I suspect that he would have, if I hadn't... well."

"What happened?"

Only now that he was talking about his daughter and the sailor, Mrs. Lovett fully realized that there were more people than just the barber and herself who must've fled London that night. It dawned on her that Anthony's quest to free Johanna Barker from the Judge must've come to an end that night as well – but she had never thought about it once during all those days that had passed since that night and she had no idea what had happened outside the bakehouse except for the seconds that it had taken her to race to the exit of the building, oblivious to everything except for her own fear.

"When I had killed Turpin and... Lucy, I found a boy hiding in the chest in my shop. Or at least, I thought that it was a boy. He – she – had seen, or at least heard, everything. I wanted to kill her, believing that the small person dressed in men's clothes was nothing but a boy who had been in my barber shop for a shave when Lucy had entered and had for some reason hidden in that chest. I saw her and intended to kill her, to make sure that she wouldn't go to the law. I would've killed her, if you hadn't screamed just before I was going to strike."

Mrs. Lovett didn't know yet why Mr. Todd was telling her this, what this had to do with his daughter. But the way he was tensing right behind her, his usually so blank voice now heavy with emotion, made it very obvious to her that what he was telling her now was important indeed.

"I left her there in the barber's chair to go back to the basement – back to you – to make sure that Turpin was truly dead. But when I ran out of the bakehouse later that night, I saw him – her – together with Anthony. I didn't realize it then – I hardly noticed Anthony himself when I tried to get as far away from Fleet Street before the bodies would be found. Only later it became clear to me that the 'boy' that I almost killed must've been Johanna."

The baker gasped, only now realizing what had happened right above her head during that final night of killing.

"You saved my daughter's life," he said, his voice so soft now that she almost couldn't hear it. "If it hadn't been for you, she would've died that night. By my own hands."

There was so much emotion in his voice that it was for a moment difficult for Nellie to believe that this was indeed the former demon barber who was talking to her. But as two strong hands suddenly grasped her dress, turning her around abruptly even though she was sitting on the floor, there was no denying with whom she was dealing with.

She let out a scream of shock and surprise, the movements catching her completely off guard. Before she fully knew what was happening, the barber pulled her upper body closer to his own and almost forcefully moved his face to hide it in the crook of her neck.

Her mouth opened again but no sound came out when his head came to rest on her shoulder. She had no idea what to say or do; the barber had showed many sides of him that day already of which she had no idea that he still possessed them, but his current behavior was strange, even for his apparent new standards.

Only when his arms came around her once again, holding on to her now in an almost painful way, she realized what he was going on. Mr. Todd had been there for her as soon as he had found out that she had waited for him, just like she had promised. He had supported her in a way of which she had never thought possible, basically offering her his shoulder to cry on only moments ago.

But still, she had never thought that there would come a moment, in this life or the next, that Sweeney Todd would turn to her for comfort. But it was happening now and there was no time for the baker to verify whether this was actually happening, whether she wasn't asleep in her creaky bed in her tiny room far away from London after all. Intuitively, her arms went up, one coming to rest on the barber's back, caressing him in what she hoped was a soothing manner, and the other went in his hair, stroking it gently.

Mrs. Lovett had expected that the barber would withdraw as soon as he would feel somewhat better, when he was sure that he could control himself again. It was how she had always imagined moments like this; she was convinced that in the rare moment that he would allow her to support him like this, he would act as if it had never happened as soon as he was feeling relatively well again.

But even as he calmed down after several minutes, he didn't move away from her. He kept holding her, his nose so close to her neck that it was touching her skin. She tried to act as if this was normal, that it made perfect sense that he was trusting her so much to let his guard down like this when she was with him, but the baker herself felt rather nervous because of the way that he was acting.

She was afraid that she would accidentally do something wrong, to act in a way that would drive the barber away from her after all without being aware of it herself. Her hands ceased their strokes as she felt that the caresses would probably remind him that she was the one who was comforting him, and not the wife who was taken away from him long ago.

He made a small sound of disappointment and she thought for a second that this was indeed a sign that he didn't want to be with her like this. But then, much to her surprise, he reached for her hands, placing them back on his body.

Her breath hitched in her throat at this suggestion. Never in her life she would've thought that this would actually happen, that there would come a day that the barber made so explicitly clear to her that he wanted her to comfort him like this, that he trusted her enough to allow her to do so in this vulnerable state of his.

Mrs. Lovett was fully aware of the long sigh that he let out when her hands continued their ministrations on his back and that he held on to her more tightly. She closed her eyes as well, savoring the minutes of comfort that passed slowly.

"I used to look after Johanna," she said as her mind drifted back to the only light that had suddenly appeared into her life when the barber had been banished. "When you and Lucy were gone..."

The baker swallowed as she recalled those days. She had been both thrilled and horrified to look after the girl. She had always wanted to have children of her own, and Johanna was a very sweet girl. At the same time she was also afraid of taking care of a child, especially one as important as Johanna, because she had no experience whatsoever doing so. Whenever she looked at her, she had always both felt the urge to protect the last bit that was left of Benjamin Barker and the pain of knowing that she had wanted this child to be their own.

"Albert wasn't very pleased. I said to him that looking after her was the only decent thing to do and I managed to persuade him. He never had any idea that the most important reason that I wanted to look after Johanna was because of you."

"I never thought about that," Sweeney said after a long while. "I had always thought that the Judge had taken her as soon as..."

The barber's body tensed once again as he was reminded of the fate of his late wife.

"They came after a few weeks," Nellie said, answering his implicit question. "Albert had grown quite fond of your girl as well. We both had hoped that we could keep her. But there was nothing we could do. Albert even put up a fight, but there were too many policemen. Turpin must've been very... determined to get Johanna."

He actually shivered as he heard this, reminding him of a truth he wanted to be nothing more than a nightmare. Mr. Todd moved closer to her until he possible couldn't get any closer, his face rubbing against her neck and his chest pressed against her own. It was rather uncomfortable to sit on the floor like that, but Mrs. Lovett couldn't care less. As the barber's arms locked tightly around her back, she moved her own arms around his neck, hands twining in his hair to keep him this close to her.

"I never knew," he said eventually, his voice muffled by her own body. "I never thanked you."

"It's quite all right," she replied, moved by the sincere gratitude, "you had a lot more pressing things on your..."

He yanked himself away from her, leaving the baker feeling bereft. A second later however his mouth was pressed against hers and she found herself kissing the barber once more, his need washing over her.

His kiss was suspiciously salty but when they broke apart after a few breathless minutes, there wasn't a sign of tears in his eyes. There was only an expression of want as he looked at her, his breath labored and his hands resting on her hips.

If she wanted a moment to finish at last what they had started twice earlier that day, this was her chance. She could do anything to the barber now; she strongly felt that he would accepted whatever she wanted at this moment as long as it distracted him from the pain of his lost family.

Mrs. Lovett had been desperate for a change like this for a very long time indeed. But as the barber was looking at her, gaze even moving down to her heaving chest, she had the feeling that it was wrong for them to give in to their desire for each other now. In a way, she would take advantage of him and the state that he was in now and besides, she needed him to want her, and not something that could distract him from the memories that haunted him.

There had been times that she would've had scolded herself for being so critical in such a situation, but in those days moments like this had never actually taken place and she hadn't truly believed that something like this could be possible anyway.

When he reached for her again, his lips moving towards hers once more and a hard gaze of determination in his eyes, the baker moved away from him. She leaned back only a few inches, but he understood. His gaze darkened for a moment, but then he nodded slowly and sighed, a sound that made her heart ache with sympathy.

His body almost collapsed, as if not just all the bones but his life as well had been taken out of it. Mrs. Lovett was still very close to him and caught him, making sure that he didn't hurt himself. Not knowing what else to do, she guided his head into her lap, making sure that he was at least comfortable.

Mr. Todd wrapped his arms around her waist even as he buried his face in the fabric of her skirt, making sure that she wouldn't leave him. It was not that she was planning to do anything of the sort, but when she saw how he clung to her, she couldn't help but wonder how long and how much he had longed to do this. Seeing him like this, it didn't seem so strange to think that he had waited for a long time without hope, just like she had done.

His shoulders were shaking slightly. He might be crying after all, but even if he did, she sensed that he wouldn't show her, such a proof of his vulnerability to much for him to share with her even now. But it was all right with her that he didn't want to share all his emotions with her; she was more than happy that he was allowing her to see him like this in the first place.

"Johanna did escape," she said as several minutes had passed, interrupted by nothing but the few quiet, ambiguous sounds that were coming from the barber. "And Anthony is with her. He seemed like a good lad. I'm sure he'll take good care of her. They're probably far away from London – perhaps even from England. And let's face it... after all what she has been through in her young years, life can only get better for now."

"That's what I'm telling myself," the barber replied, turning his head slightly.

When she could see his face again, it seemed in the dim light of the parlor as if there were a few wet spots on his cheek. Mrs. Lovett couldn't see it clearly, but it wasn't of much importance to her. He seemed to feel better now, and that was all what mattered to her.

"But I can't be sure and I feel as if I can only stop worrying about her when I'm entirely sure that she's happy now."

"Sometimes it's better not to know," the baker found herself saying.

Mr. Todd considered those words for a moment, looking intently at her as if he could his answer somehow that way. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again and nodded.

He didn't seem entirely convinced, but the baker would've been surprised if he was. Sweeney seemed to relax again at last however and that's what she found most important.

"What about Toby?"

Mrs. Lovett sighed when she heard the name of the boy who she had looked after as if he were her own son. She may have Teddy now, but the other boy that she once had looked after never was out of her thoughts for a long time.

"I don't know. He must've still been hiding in the bakehouse when I left."

"When I left, I didn't see him either. He was probably hiding in the sewers."

"Probably," Mrs. Lovett said, having thought the same thing as well. But again, she couldn't be sure about it.

"He probably escaped not long after we did. No doubt he was horrified by what he must've seen, but he's still young. Those memories should be nothing but a bad dream by now."

"I hope so," she said, guilt overwhelming her when she thought of Toby.

"Don't worry about him, Nellie. He's a practical boy. He'll have found a way. He's probably married to a beautiful woman by now, someone just as caring as him. Perhaps he even has children of his own."

"You never liked him," the baker said, for a moment more aware of the barber's feelings for the boy than his actual words.

"True. But you did."

Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile. It meant a lot to her that Sweeney was trying to make her feel better, even now that he was worrying about his own daughter so much.

"You should try not to think about it too much," he said after a while. "It only hurts you and doesn't change anything."

"That's a strange advice, coming from you."

The words themselves were quite harsh, but there was nothing but gentleness in her voice as she spoke them.

"I'm speaking out of experience," he replied, his words just as soft.

"And so am I."

He sighed, nodding again. Mrs. Lovett had never thought that there would come a day that Mr. Todd would openly accept that she was right about something and he was not, but even though such a situation was something that she secretly had looked forward to very much indeed, she couldn't enjoy it at all now that it was happening after all.

"Let us speak of it no more," he said.

"That's probably for the best."

Both of them were quiet. Mrs. Lovett wasn't thinking of the boy she had lost any longer however and if the way he was looking at her was any indication, Mr. Todd wasn't worrying about Johanna anymore either.

Only now that both of them didn't speak and their minds weren't wandering somewhere far away, where the loved ones that weren't them with them any longer might be, the baker realized that it was now fully dark outside. The fire that was burning in the hearth was now the only source of light in the parlor and although it was quite dark, she felt that it suited their situation quite well.

Sweeney Todd made himself comfortable where he was, resting his head on her thigh in such a way that he could look up at her. There was a sparkle in his eyes and even though the baker didn't know whether this was only an illusion created by the flames not far away from them, it was an intriguing sight.

He reached for her hand again, bringing it to his cheek. It wasn't something she would do on her own accord, not even know, but now that he had given her permission like this, she felt free to explore his face with her fingers, the tips brushing against his skin to familiarize herself again with the features of the man who she loved.

Mr. Todd sighed in a way that could only be described as content and it made the barber even happier to know that he enjoyed her touch.

Quiet minutes passed, but this time they weren't haunted by any unpleasant memories or questions. If anything, it appeared as if they were creating moments instead of remembering them, making something out of nothing and replacing the horrible experiences with ones that were a lot more bearable.

But as both of them were as calm as they could be given the circumstances and she had mapped every curve and line of his face, the baker couldn't help but wonder about the things he had told earlier about himself, the tale that he hadn't completed yet. The story that hopefully included at one point an explanation for his current behavior. For no matter how much she liked it, she was eager to know what was responsible for it indeed.

"Can you tell me what happened after you were in the hospital, when you met Victoria?"

"I can," he said, turning his head somewhat so he could look at her even though he was basically lying on the carpet of his parlor. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Still a curious thing, aren't you?"

The baker's face colored slightly as she realized that her approach perhaps hadn't been the best one. But Mr. Todd just looked at her with that strangely contagious glint in his eyes, for once not bothered by her desire to know about him as much as she could.

"Victoria's appearance wasn't the only surprise. When I had freed the rest of the crew of the captures ship that I was on, it had been for me the only right thing to do. I had never thought that it would mean anything, except for our survival. When the ship sailed back to England, we mostly were too focused on getting there as soon as possible to think very much of what happened. But only when the majority of the crew, including the captain, were in the hospital, my actions seemed to have truly sunk in. They began calling me a hero. A crippled hero, but a hero nonetheless."

The barber was obviously still amazed about this and the baker couldn't blame him. Even she found it hard to imagine him saving other people's lives – and she was the one who, more than anyone else, had always seen the best in him.

"I was still too weak to look after Victoria, even though I had come to terms with Lee's request. The nurses and even some of the soldiers kept an eye on her and made sure that she wasn't neglected while I recovered. When I was getting better and it became clear that I could never go back on a ship because of the permanent damage to my leg, the captain of the ship himself helped me built a new life for Victoria and myself. Because his own children were moving out, the house that he and his wife lived in – the house where we are now – was becoming too big for him. Insisting that I deserved the best, he sold it to me for a price that was far below the actual value. I could pay the majority of the price with the money that I had saved throughout the years, when I had been both a soldier and a barber aboard the ship."

"But you don't have a tonsorial parlor any longer," Mrs. Lovett said, realizing that she hadn't seen any sign of a barber shop in the area – only the razor that he was still wearing suggested that he had worked as a barber since his ow return to London.

"That's also thanks to the captain. He was one of the men I used to shave aboard the ship in exchange for a small fee. He was very impressed with my skills, called me the best barber he had ever met."

Mrs. Lovett was aware of the pride in Sweeney's voice when he was reminded of the compliment he once had received. She smiled, recognizing something of Benjamin Barker within him again as he spoke once more with such fondness of his work.

"He recommended me to all his friends and neighbors. They apparently shared his opinion. Before I knew it, the majority of the men living in this area had become my customer. Without exception, they are very rich men who prefer not to visit a tonsorial parlor. So I go to them. It isn't a perfect situation, because of my leg, but even if I work only a few hours a day, I earn more money within that day than I usually did within half a month."

The baker gasped, the true financial position of the barber becoming clear to her now. The contrast with her own life couldn't be greater. He made more money now than even she had done when the fame of her meat pie emporium was at its peak.

"I could spend the rest of my time with Victoria. She was used just as little as I was to all those luxuries I could afford now, but it was to her of course a far greater shock to be living with me instead of her own family. I had little interest in looking after a child and it wasn't any easier because she looks quite a lot like Johanna at first sight, especially when she was younger. But after a somewhat difficult start we got along rather well. We are much more alike than I had initially thought. I can't imagine myself living here without her – or anywhere, for that matter."

Mrs. Lovett was very much aware of the affection that was obvious in his voice when he spoke of his ward. The baker accepted now that he was looking after the girl, but she couldn't help but envy the child a little, having lived with the barber in the wonderful house for such a long time.

"Lee always described her as cheerful and happy, but as long as she's lived here, she was the complete opposite. It's not strange after all, seeing that her parents had died and that I was the one who she ended up living with. But I had always convinced that this would improve. Even I began to feel better after living here for a few years, I became more at ease than when I had been at sea, let alone when I lived in Fleet Street. But she... she doesn't laugh or cry, she doesn't talk much... I recognized enough of it to be worried. She doesn't play with dolls and doesn't go outside like I imagined Johanna doing when she had been that age, if she had been given the chance. Instead, Victoria prefers to stay indoors all day, either playing the piano and painting – or watching the stars."

"But this afternoon..." she said, remembering that the girl had been throwing snowballs with Teddy.

"Yes. She laughed. I still can't believe it. And she and your boy played in the snow together and they talked for quite some time – almost as long as we were... well. And they played the piano together. She won't even let me touch that piano."

"That's wonderful," Nellie said sincerely. "Teddy is the complete opposite. I was afraid that this would change when I would take him back to London. This is no place for a child to grow up – or at least, so I thought. I had never known there were parts of the city that are this beautiful. If I wouldn't know any better, I'd almost think that we were somewhere on the countryside. Teddy likes it here so far I think and he seems to be very fond of Victoria; this is a much better place for him to live than were we came from."

Both were silent, letting the new situation sink in. They needed both some time for this indeed. Just the change within the children they were responsible for was worth a lot of thought, not to mention the way they had found each other.

"Nellie."

Mrs. Lovett was delighted to hear him say her first name; there was something in the way he addressed her that was only there when he said her name.

"There is something else I want to tell you. Something more important."

The baker looked at him, curious, wondering what there was more to tell.

"About you and me. About how I... feel for you."

Her heart began to beat faster as she realized what he was referring to. She had been too caught up in the story that he had told her so far to remember that this part of his life was the one she had been most eager to hear. But all thoughts of battles and wards were forgotten now that he was struggling to put into words how his opinion of her had changed so drastically.

There was a gentle tug at her arm. Sweeney moved his head slightly away from her, until he was lying fully on the floor. He urged her to do the same. She didn't know why but she followed him, until she too was lying fully on the carpet, head resting on the arm that she folded beneath it. The other entwined with the barber's and even as she suddenly felt nervous, knowing that this was the moment that she had been waiting for for over three decades, for a few seconds she could do nothing but stare at the linked hands, hopefully that their lives from now on would be just like those hands – together.

"The first years after the night that I left London, I hated you more than anything else in the world."

Even though this obviously had changed very much, the baker shivered as she was reminded of the way he had looked at her when he had tried to throw her into the oven. His face had been a mask of hate and disdain, those feelings even stronger than the ones he had harbored for the Judge and the Beadle.

Sensing what she was thinking, he squeezed her hand. The gesture had the intended effect on the baker.

"When I was on the ship, those feelings began to fade – but not just my emotions regarding you, but everything. For a long time, I didn't feel anything at all. When I had become Sweeney Todd, I had lost everything that I had been before. Even if Lucy would've been waiting for me when I had returned and hadn't changed at all since the day that I had left, I'm sure now that I wouldn't have been able to love her."

The baker found herself nodding. She had always thought the same thing. When she had seen him looking at the pictures of his late wife and lost child, there had been regret and melancholy in his gaze – but no longer love or affection.

"When I came to live here with Victoria, this hadn't changed. I did feel however that there was something missing. It didn't take long before I realized that I needed someone to take care of the household and help me look after Victoria. There had never been a time in my life that I had to do anything but work – which was either shaving, laboring or fighting – while others took care of the rest, even though some obviously did so in a much more pleasant way than others. I ended up here with a leg that was useless for the first few months, a house that turned out to be too large and a girl that I didn't care about beyond the promise I had made to my dying friend."

The image of a crippled barber taking care of both the household and the girl appeared inside Mrs. Lovett's mind. She didn't know whether such a vision amused her or made her feel sorry for him, but she didn't show any reaction. Ending his unusually open and generous mood was the last thing she wanted.

"So I hired Mrs. Clint. She was perfect – she still is. I don't know how she manages to keep this house as clean as it is, but she does it. Victoria likes her – as far as she liked anyone before Teddy came along. She's quiet and her cooking is much better than yours."

The look on his face was a mischievous one, the playfulness in his voice clear. But it was especially because of the lovely glint in his eyes when he was teasing her that made sure that the baker took no offense.

"But the more time she spent here, the more I felt that there was still something missing. It was a relief at first that she wasn't talking to me all the time about even the least important things, that she didn't try to get as close to me was possible, didn't touch me whenever she could. The less she reminded me of you, the more pleased I was. Or at least, that's what I thought."

The barber was silent for a moment, his thoughts obviously not with her for a moment, but once again considering the strange discovery that he had made several years ago.

"But I still felt that something was missing – and the more impressed I was with Mrs. Clint's housekeeping skills, the stronger that feeling became. I tried to recall what it was like to live together with Lucy, for as far as I still could. The differences were obvious, but didn't explain the strange belief I had that there was something missing other than the woman I loved."

The baker's breath hitched in her throat as Sweeney referred to the love he felt for his late wife in past tense. She made sure to keep the expression on her face as neutral as she could, not wanting to push him too far, but inside her chest her heart was beating faster than it had done before during that most extraordinary day.

"I wanted to ignore that feeling, but it was so strong that I couldn't. Even though I didn't want to, I began looking back on the few months that we lived together. I had never done so before and I was rather sure that there wasn't much to remember. And there wasn't. I could hardly recall the room where I had lived or the men I had killed – even the memory of the vengeance I took on Turpin and Bamford had faded so much that I couldn't really remember it. But I did remember you."

A delicious shiver spread through her entire body when he looked at her with an intensity that she had only known when it had been focused on his razors or pictures of his lost family.

"It seemed wrong," he mused, "to be able to recall the only part of my life that I had never paid any attention too. But it turned out to be that my eyes had been aware of you even when I wasn't looking, and I found memories of you somewhere in my mind of which I hadn't even known that they were there. Even when I wanted it to stop as soon as I realized what had somehow happened, I saw you inside of me, as if you were inside my head still living just like you had been when we both lived in Fleet Street. The more I wanted it to end, the more insistent those images became."

Mrs. Lovett wasn't sure if she would've been offended or amused if she would've known that Mr. Todd had thought about her like that when she still had been convinced that he hated her and possibly still was trying to find a way to kill her after all. But it didn't matter what she would've thought of it; now it was only about how those memories of his had transformed him into the man who was lying next to her at that very moment.

"In my mind, I saw you baking and serving pies, cleaning our shops, laughing and singing... I remembered how you used to read in your parlor, close to the fire with your feet on another chair, a cup of tea within reach. The way you talked to Toby and to your customers – to me - always with kindness and patience, no matter how tired you were. I remembered how you used to collapse on your couch when all the customers were gone and everything was ready for another day at last."

He reached for her, fingers brushing against her cheeks, as if he wanted to make sure that she was truly there after all and that this wasn't another illusion or memory.

"But most of all, I began to remember how you used to look at me. Your eyes... I can't count the times that I woke up at night, feeling as if you had been looking at me in my dreams – and still did when I was awake. I recalled how you used to touch me, your hands always lingering on my arms or shoulders. How you helped me, the advice you gave, tried to make me feel better although even you must've known that there was no use. The way you looked at me when you thought I didn't see you. That you were just always there. And most of all, I remembered how you had confessed your love for me, just before I had tried to kill you. I recalled it word for word, the hope and despair I had seen in your eyes when you declared your love for me, telling me you'd be twice the wife that Lucy had been."

When she was still trying to fully process this – something that would probably take a rather long time – he moved on top of her without warning, with a speed that she hadn't expected from him any longer.

"Finally, I knew what was missing."

He closed the distance that was still left between their faces and kissed her. The kiss was slow and deep – in the baker's eyes, it was a kiss of love instead of lust. But she didn't dare hope too much, knowing that even this would become a disappointment if she allowed herself to think that it was more than it actually was.

So she simply kissed him back, his explanation of his obsession for her sufficient for her. She longed to wrap her legs around his waist, bringing her body as close to his as was possible, but the fabric of her dress was restricting her once again. Instead, she moved her hands in his hair, caressing his dark locks while making sure that he wouldn't break away from the feeling. Judging by the way he sighed her name as he moved slightly back to breathe, he didn't intend to do so either way.

"I couldn't believe what was happening," he said, his lips still only inches away from hers, "I didn't want it to be happening. But it did. I remembered everything about you that I had ever noticed, even when I hadn't want to see it all those years ago. I started to miss you – to long for you."

He kissed her again and she moaned because of the intensity of it, his lips and tongue caressing her as if he wanted to reach to her very soul. One of his hands moved downwards, exploring the curve of her waist, as if he wanted to make sure that this part of her was real as well, or simply to caress what he had apparently wished to touch for years.

"I began to dream of you. Sometimes those dreams were nightmares – the look in your eyes when you realized what I wanted to do to you, that I had lied about my willingness to live with you by the sea only to distract you – still haunts me. But there were also dreams that I found very pleasant. They were not memories, but new images. I imagined what it would be like if you were here with me, how it would feel like to rest my hand on your arms or shoulders like you used to do, to stare back into those large eyes of yours. I wanted to talk to you, to hold you, to kiss you, to make love to you."

The moan that she let out as he whispered those last words was swallowed by him as he kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers once more in a bittersweet moment of connection. The sensations that only he could cause washed over her once more and more than ever, she fully embraced them, being sure at least now that there was nothing to fear any longer. She was convinced now that he was really sincere, no matter how bizarre it still seemed to her.

Only when both of them were panting with the lack of air a few minutes later, they ended the kiss, bodies trembling and lips swollen – and still eager for more.

"I tried to resist it – you've got no idea. I did everything I could think of to free myself from your memory. But there was no use. And when I gave in to it at last... it was a revelation. It almost seemed as if you were here with me as soon as I fully accepted that I wanted you to. But of course, you weren't really there."

He moved closer to her again, but then stopped himself, obviously struggling to say what he wanted to say before giving in to his desire to kiss her again.

"I began to look for you, only to find out that it was impossible. I had no idea where you had gone – whether you were even still alive – and I couldn't ask without raising suspicion. I had found you only to lose you at the same time. So I settled for the next best thing – the things that had belonged to you, items that you used to touch or wear."

The baker was vaguely reminded of the bizarre room filled with her former possessions that she had seen earlier that day.

"I returned to Fleet Street at night. Realizing that a lot of your things were still there was the first true joy I had felt for as long as I could remember. Your furniture was partly demolished and everything of direct value was gone, but a lot of other things were still there. I took everything with me, returning night after night until it was all here. I put it all in an unused room – I told myself that I wanted to preserve your belongings for you just in case you would ever get back. But most of all I wanted to have your things to have at least something real and tangible to remind me of you."

Instead of kissing her again, he caressed her face with one hand as he supported his weight with the other. Mrs. Lovett closed her eyes, happily letting his tenderness consume her.

"I thought – hoped, maybe – that those crazy feelings would disappear, or at least fade, as time passed. But they only grew stronger. More and more often I found myself imagining what it would be like to meet you again, what you would look like now, what it would be to touch you. Going back to Fleet Street every afternoon became a ritual for me, as if I could somehow get you back that way. I told myself that if you would ever return, you would come back to your former home as well – all I had to do was be there when you arrived. And although I knew more than anyone that life doesn't work like that, you were there today."

The look in his eyes was one of both disbelief and joy, making clear to her that he was truly happy to see her and that he only wasn't fully convinced yet that this wasn't another one of the fantasies he had just talked about.

Wanting to make it as clear to him as she could that she was truly there and that she was just as happy because of that as he was, she reached for him herself now, fingers caressing his cheek until she pulled his face closer to her own, so she could kiss him again.

Her lips brushed against his own but she pulled back before he could reply in kind, only to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, and another one, until she was covering his face with soft kisses.

Judging by his long sighs, he enjoyed this just as much as she did. Wanting her to reach for him with more ease, he locked his hands behind her back and turned both of them around, until she was lying on top of him. Mrs. Lovett took as much advantage of this as she could, kissing his entire face gently, exploring the still somewhat new lines of his face with both her fingers and lips.

"This morning I recognized you as soon as I pulled you away from Victoria," he said once the baker rested her head on his chest, satisfied for the time being. "I had so often imagined what I would say or do if a moment like that would ever become reality, but when I finally saw you again... I could only stare. You were just like I remembered you. But when I saw that boy and noticed how much he looked like you... there was no doubt in my mind that he was your son, that you had found someone else."

His hands clenched into fists even now. Mrs. Lovett pushed herself up on her arms, moving her face towards his to kiss him again, reminding him that there was no one else who she loved and that there never would be.

The barber stopped her however, gently placing his fingers between their lips so she couldn't kiss him.

"What I did to you this afternoon... it was wrong. I was shocked and angry, but it was no excuse for the way I treated you."

His free hand moved up to her shoulder, caressing one of the marks that he had left when he had bitten her skin.

"It's quite all right," she said, teasingly kissing the fingers that were between his lips and her own. "I... enjoyed it."

He looked at her, eyes wide as he shook his head, not believing that she actually said this.

"You are a strange woman," he said after a moment of thought, but there was no disapproval in his voice, as if he was merely stating a fact that he wasn't bothered by at all.

He was clearly amused by her words, until he realized why exactly she hadn't minded when he had kissed and touched her in such a rough fashion.

"But I fear that I am to blame," he said, referring to the way he had treated her when she had been his accomplice, when she had accepted everything he did to her because she loved him. "And I don't want things to be like that any longer."

She didn't know what exactly he was referring to – whether he was talking about the way he had touched her earlier that day or the way he had treated her in general in the past – but it was a very positive development either way.

He removed his fingers that separated their mouths. When she had the chance, she kissed him again, fully surrendering to the blissful sensations that his kisses caused.

Mrs. Lovett was aware that he hadn't told her that he loved her. Such a statement seemed perhaps rather redundant after he had told her all this, but those words were the ones that she had wanted to hear from him for as long as she could remember. Even now she had the feeling that all this would be even better when he told her directly what his words were suggesting.

There was something in his kiss however that was completely unlike anything she had ever known, something that she hadn't expected even from him. And although there came no verbal declaration of love, the baker had at that moment the feeling that he was telling her that he loved her without using words.