A/N: Sorry about the huge gap between chapters. I have no excuse whatsoever, except I've had several viruses one after the other lately, and I wasn't in much of a state for writing anything worth reading. But I sat down this morning and finished this chapter for you all. I think this is the chapter when we really begin to see how Sweeney's coming apart somewhat.

Chapter 9 - Are You Insane?

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For almost a minute, Sweeney Todd simply stood where he was, breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow of the kill – something not too dissimilar to its sexual counterpart – and assessed the situation in a calm, detached way he had developed over the past week.

The barber smirked as he recalled the look on Connor's face when he'd called the man by his real name. Truly, he must have seemed all-knowing, but in all honestly he'd simply collared the lad who assisted him and – with a little persuasion in the form of a few coins and the promise of free pies whenever he fancied at the shop, Sweeney doubting that Susan would mind feeding the lad – the barber had extracted the information he required. It struck Sweeney almost ironic that the boy he'd hired for a couple of weeks one summer – who'd seemed so enthusiastic about becoming a barber himself one day – had been the one to kill off Benjamin Barker's business once and for all.

Sweeney put his razor back in his belt after giving it a wipe on his shirt – the smears acquired through this rush job struck a chord in him, but it would have to do for now – and in one quick motion removed his bloodstained shirt. When he'd woken up before dawn that morning, Sweeney had been in no doubt about what fate would befall Pirelli – or Connor – by the time the day was out. So he'd done the logical thing and made plans. Bringing a bag across London would have been too obvious, but nobody paid attention to a bundle, and so Sweeney had wrapped a fresh shirt in his old, battered leather jacket to change into. Pulling the fresh garment on, Sweeney surveyed his reflection in one of the mirrors dotted around the caravan, and then quickly wiped the blood on his face off with the already bloody shirt. There was something else, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, so there was nothing to do but hope for the best and get back to the shop as quickly as he could. If he was lucky, Susan wouldn't even have woken, and he could slip back upstairs without her ever knowing he'd been gone…

Susan sighed as she opened the door into the shop, Pirelli's young assistant – Toby, he'd said his name was – following her. She felt quite ready to throttle the barber when he returned. Not that she minded feeding the boy up, but if he asked her about these things first it would be a big help. Still, as she bid Toby to have a seat and set about getting him a couple of meat pies, she felt an odd sense of motherliness wash over her, and viciously pushed it back. It felt like a betrayal to her son to feel maternal over another child. It didn't help that he would have been roundabout Toby's age, or maybe a couple of years younger, turning twelve in the summer. Perhaps Toby picked up on some of her feelings, because his gaze was fixed rather awkwardly on the ground.

"I 'ope I'm not bein' a bother, Ma'am." He muttered, blonde curly hair falling over his face as he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. Susan couldn't help but soften slightly.

"Oh, love, don't you 'ave a worry 'bout that. Here." She placed the pies in front of him and gave the boy a warm smile. "Tuck in. You look like you need a good meal o' three."

"Thank ye, Ma'am." Toby replied, grabbing a pie and tucking in enthusiastically. Susan sat on the bench opposite him and directed her gaze out of the window, having a perfect view of anyone approaching the shop.

Her mind wandered, grasping and subsequently dismissing possibilities concerning Sweeney's whereabouts. He'd been gone a fair while now. Susan had been intending to have a wander down to the market and examine the wares before most people got there, but halfway she'd spotted Toby and, after giving him a smile in greeting, had learned that Sweeney had – in exchange for answers to 'a few strange questions' as Toby had put it – promised the lad a free pie or two whenever he came to the pie shop. Now, Susan was all for feeding up the lad, and if she was honest, that wasn't what was bothering her. What she was really worried about was the questions Sweeney had asked. A slight chill settled over Susan as she remembered how Sweeney had questioned her about what Pirelli had said, and to her shock, found herself hoping her barber hadn't gone after the man. But then again, why would he? The fake Italian was obviously a liar – Lucy Barker was too dim to successfully pull off having an affair and keeping it secret.

But she didn't keep it a secret, did she? A voice in Susan's head pointed out. Her husband found out. And he did something. Something terrible. So terrible Davy Connor seemed to think you were in danger.

Shut up about that. Susan thought shakily. She was vaguely aware of a voice, and, with a huge effort, pulled herself back into the real world, leaving the realm of speculation for now.

"Hmm?" Susan turned her head to see Toby, pies finished, looking at her questioningly. "What was that, love? Me 'ead was in the clouds."

"I was just sayin', Ma'am, that Signor Pirelli 'ad an appointment today, an' I should prob'ly go an' remind 'im o' it." The boy explained, looking slightly troubled. Susan felt her brow crease in confusion.

"But didn't you say you 'ad the day off, love?" She asked. "Surely 'e can keep 'is own appointments for one day."

"I don't know…" Toby glanced out of the window. "It's pretty important, Ma'am. Some judge o' somethin' comes once a week f'r a shave. Signor's always 'appy on a Friday, 'cause 'e pays well."

Something clicked in Susan's mind and she filed it away for later, temporarily forgetting her anger at Sweeney as she considered the probable fact that Judge Turpin got shaved by Davy Connor. That could be useful…

"Tell you what, then, Toby, you go an' see if Signor Pirelli's forgotten 'is appointment, an' if 'e 'asn't, you can come right back 'ere for another pie." She suggested, and couldn't help her lips twitching upwards at Toby's enthusiastic expression.

"Oh, thank ye, Ma'am." He exclaimed happily. "I'll go now."

"No need for that, lad, Signor Pirelli has been called away and will not be returning."

Susan looked up sharply to see Sweeney stood in the doorway, and wondered why she hadn't heard him come in. Perhaps it was only her imagination, encouraged by the upheaval of the last couple of days, but there seemed to be an almost ironic tone to the barber's voice, as if he was privy to a fact nobody else was, and found the situation highly amusing.

"Oh?" Susan looked into the barber's eyes, trying to distinguish exactly what he meant. "An' why's that, then?"

"Let's just say he had a run-in with an old… friend." Sweeney gave Susan a significant look and after a moment her eyes widened in realisation as she glimpsed the bundle under his arm. Trying not to panic, she turned to Toby.

"Why don't you 'ave another pie, love, an' I'll just be 'avin' a word with Mr T." The baker suggested, taking the boy's plate and putting another pie on it before he could reply. Replacing the plate in front of the youngster, Susan glared at Sweeney, took him by the arm, and pulled him through the shop and into the living room, closing the door behind them. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the dark-haired man, who seemed slightly uneasy by this point.

"What the 'ell did you, Sweeney?" She asked, her voice low and urgent. To her annoyance, the barber simply placed the bundle – which Susan now saw was his battered leather jacket – on the sofa and leant against the aforementioned piece of furniture.

"Like I said, 'Signor Pirelli'." The mockery surrounding the name told Susan what Sweeney had asked Toby. "Had a run in with an old friend."

For clarification, as if Susan needed it, Sweeney pulled the razor from his belt and flicked it open, and set about buffing the metal gently with the edge of his shirt.

"Well, what for? Sweeney, are you insane? You'll get us both 'ung!"

"I was out for a walk, and just so happened to pass the good Signor's caravan. It's not my fault he asked for a word with me and revealed he knew our real identities, and intended to go to the Beadle if I didn't give him half my profits." The dark-haired barber explained, infuriatingly cool. Susan gave him a long look and, before he could stop her, grabbed the bundle, and gave a stiff nod as a bloodied shirt dropped out, just as she had expected.

"'Ow often d'you go out for a walk with a fresh shirt coincidentally under your arm?" She demanded quietly, her voice as hard as steel. "Don't lie to me."

A silence stretched between them as their eyes met. Finally, Sweeney glanced away and sighed, a hand going through his wild hair, but said nothing.

But really, Susan reflected, what is there to say?

"All right." She said eventually. "If you won't tell me… get out."

Sweeney looked up sharply, his eyes searching hers for the joke.

"I mean it." The baker insisted. "Somethin's 'appenin' to you, an' I want no part o' it. 'Cause o' you, there's a lad out there who's now alone in the world. Someone's gonna 'ave seen you goin' in an' comin' out, Sweeney, an' they'll 'ave noticed Connor didn't. So unless you can give me a damn good reason for what you did… leave."

Sweeney had finished polishing his razor, but he didn't put it away, and Susan's eyes followed it as the barber raised it, examining it with casualness. Eventually, those gorgeous dark eyes flicked to her, and rooted her to the spot as effectively as any shackles. A slight smirk played over his features, but it held no humour, and he spoke a single word that Susan thought for a moment would seal her fate.

"Connor?"

Susan froze, a hand going slowly to her mouth as she realised her mistake. As much as she wanted to meet the barber's gaze now, to show him she wasn't afraid, and by God she was as capable of murdering a man as he was, she couldn't. She'd lied to him, pure and simple, and now she was being a hypocrite. But still, she reasoned, it was different. Completely different. Or was it?

"I was under the impression we were talking about Adolfo Pirelli." Sweeney continued, a strange glint in his eyes. "In fact, I am quite certain I made no mention of a Mr Connor."

"I…" Words temporarily failed Susan and she used the time to plan her answer. "All right, then. Yes, when 'e came to the shop the other day, 'e told me 'e was really Davy Connor. An' 'e also made it quite clear 'e didn't intend to turn either o' us in. On the contrary, 'e came to tell me to watch me back, if you must know." As she spoke, Susan's rage built inside her. Who was Sweeney Todd to try and threaten her? To intimidate her into backing down. Indignant anger swept away reason and common sense, and as she continued her tirade, Susan advanced on the barber. "'E said 'e thought I'd always been pretty decent, an' 'e didn't want to see me go the same way as Mrs Barker did when 'er 'usband found out 'bout 'er affair with Judge Turpin."

When she finished, Susan was breathing heavily, and suddenly realised how foolish it had been to spout the rumours Davy had told her… but she also realised she didn't care. This was what she should have done right at the start; get it all out in the open so she'd know whether it was truth or lies. Sweeney was also breathing heavily, and he looked angrier than Susan had ever seen him. He lunged forwards, and before Susan could react, he had her pinned against the wall, his hand at her throat, and the other still holding his razor.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." The barber growled, his toe chilling the marrow in the baker's bones. Even so, she somehow found the courage to answer back.

"Get off me." The words were quiet and frighteningly calm, but filled with a menace that matched Sweeney's. "Or I swear to God, you'll regret it."

The barber took no notice of her words – if anything, his grip tightened slightly.

"And I swear, if you ever speak of that again, I can't be certain nothing will happen."

Susan's eyes widened, and for the first time she struggled, both of her hands around the one at her neck, and her legs delivering kicks to the barber's skins.

"Don't you dare threaten me!" She exclaimed. "Don't you dare stand there an' tell me what I can an' can't do, Benjamin Barker, 'cause you're not the only one who can play that game. Is it true, then? Prob'ly is, isn't it? Why else would you 'ave reacted like this?"

For a blood-curdling moment, Susan was sure she had pushed too far, and the barber would rid himself of her as easily as he murdered his clientele – his razor came with a hair's breadth of her throat before he seemed to control himself. However, a predatorial smirk remained on his features, and his vocie whsipered macabre lyrics in her ear.

"There's a hole in the world
Like a great black pit
And it's filled with people
Who are filled with shit
And the vermin of the world
Inhabit it-
But not for long!

They all deserve to die!
Tell you why, Mrs Linnet,
Tell you why...
Because in all of the whole human race,
Mrs Linnet,
There are two kinds of men and only two.
There's the one staying put
In his proper place
And the one with his foot
In the other one's face-
Look at me, Mrs Linnet,
Look at you

No, we all deserve to die
Even you, Mrs Linnet,
Even I.
Because the lives of the wicked should be
Made brief.
For the rest of us, death
WIll be a relief.
We all deserve to die!"

Sweeney's epxression was predatorial, not more than ever, and his eyes were drownign in bloodlust. Susan held her breath and waited for the cold silver to descend on her throat, knowing Sweeney was far too strong for her to throw off, but with a small grunt, and an apparently large effort, he pulled both his arms back and replaced the razor in his belt. As Susan rubbed her throat, trying to chafe some feeling back into it, Sweeney grabbed his jacket, tugged it on, and left without a word. As the dark-haired man pulled the living room door open, a pale and frightened Toby staggered backwards, earning himself a stiff glare. Susan stayed exactly where she was until she heard the shop bell tingle, and then she allowed herself several shaky breaths as she slid slowly to the floor and hugged her knees.

"M-Ma'am?" A shaky voice beside her caused Susan to turn her head, and she saw Toby crouched beside her, concern written all over his face. "Are ye all right? 'E didn't 'urt ye, did 'e? Only, I wasn't meanin' no 'arm, Ma'am, but ye'd been gone a fair while an' I was worried, so I just put me ear to the door, just to check, an' I 'eard 'im threatenin' ye."

"I'm fine, love." The redhead whispered, a single tear rolling slowly down her cheek as the magnitude of what had happened crashed down on her. "Just fine."