A/N: So the stomach flu totally sucks. And tomorrow is my birthday. Crappy, eh? I decided to finish this chapter 'cause there's not much else I can do except sleep. So read and review and make me feel better!! :D

The only thing Sweeney Todd could remember from the night before was the heart-wrenching nightmare. Sweeney always had nightmares, but not like this. They were usually filled with him trying to catch Lucy before she fell into a dark pit, or of slashing the Judge's throat open over and over again. But this dream held something more disturbing. It held the truth. His Lucy was gone, she was never coming back. The only person he had left was Mrs. Lovett. He knew she had spoken the truth. True, Lucy didn't abandon him in the dream's way, but he still felt as if she had unfairly ripped his heart from his chest. There were plenty of times in Australia when he had had the chance to kill himself, but he never took them. He wanted to come home, to see her face again, to watch their daughter grow. Couldn't she have waited as well? Couldn't she have waited for her beloved husband to come and teach that filthy judge a lesson? Or was he being selfish, wanting Lucy to have buried her pain of being abused before he came back after an unknown amount of time?

He sighed. The lunch rush had already begun and he had no customers to distract himself with. He paced in front of the window, watching the people come in and out of the shop. He began spotting potential customers. Oh yes, that one there is traveling alone. Surely he won't be missed . . . That one looks particularly plump, he'd last for days . . .

Suddenly he spotted Mrs. Lovett. She had just come out of the front door. He guessed she wanted to be a polite host, greeting the customers one by one as they entered, her slender frame full of energy. He found that strange. Had she ever done that before? Sweeney turned away from the window, suddenly wanting to find out more in Mrs. Lovett's diary. But this time he wasn't looking for something that mentioned Lucy, he was genuinely curious about Mrs. Lovett's thoughts. He found this feeling to be strange but found the loose floorboard and reached in for the worn blue diary.

July 26th, 1823

Lucy has just announced that she is expecting I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous. That lucky twit, about to have a child with the most beautiful man on earth. I kind of pity her though. I've heard about the symptoms of pregnancy and know it is not very pleasant. She'll be tired all the time, and irritable. Maybe Benjamin will grow tired of her crankiness and realize I am his real destiny.

Sweeney stopped. Johanna. He wanted to read about her birth. He barely remembered it. Eagerly, he flipped the pages until he found the day of her birth. Of course Mrs. Lovett wrote on that day.

March 3rd, 1824

Benjamin's baby is beautiful, I have to admit. She looks more like her mother though, with her yellow hair and dimpled smile. Benjamin was acting so sweetly when she was delivered, saying how adorable she was and gently touching her teeny little fingers. It was the happiest I've ever seen him act.

"She looks just like you," he cooed gently to his simple little wife.

The jealousy monster took hold in my heart once again as I fantasized our own baby. She would look mostly like him, but with delicate, dainty features. She'd be the perfect little girl and grow up to be the most amiable young lady. Oh, look at me now. Being the fool that I am, I've started to cry.

Sweeney stopped. He was kind of disappointed that she didn't mention more about Johanna, and again he realized how oblivious he was to her obvious attraction to him. He thought about the younger Mrs. Lovett, with radiant red curls and a restless body that couldn't stand still. She was amusing to watch at times, and Sweeney remembered watching her move about the kitchen just for a laugh. She'd always make small talk, rushing and tripping over her words while her face stayed a constant shade of pink. He always thought that was how she always acted, but now he realized she had only acted that way around him. She had always seemed bored around other people, always gazing out the window, seeing things no one else saw, thinking things no one else knew. But around him she was like a little butterfly, fluttering and dancing about. And she still was, though now she seemed more like a frantic butterfly, like a bundle of nerves. The stress of the years can get to anyone, even a butterfly, mused Sweeney.

He heard footsteps. He quickly threw the diary back under the floorboard and stood up. Expecting a customer, he grabbed a brush and pretended to clean off the hair from the previous shaved man. Instead, Mrs. Lovett burst through the door looking very frazzled.

"Mr. T, we may have a problem on our hands."

oooooooooooooooooo

Mrs. Lovett was taken aback by Mr. Todd's expression. He actually seemed interested, and even concerned. She hesitated, not sure where to start.

"Yes Mrs. Lovett?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, er, I'm not sure 'ow to say this. We may . . . well I may . . . I think that . . . Well I'm not completely sure but . . . I think I may be . . . with child?" She held her breath as she took in Sweeney's reaction. At first his expression didn't change, he just stood there staring at her. Then it slowly started changing from confusion to anger, from grief to disbelief.

"Mr. Todd? Are you-"

"You're bloody kidding me, aren't you? Tell me you're not being serious."

"I'm sorry Mr. T but I'm afraid it might be true." Her voice was beginning to crack, tears almost spilling over. She was sick, she was tired, and she was afraid. She was anticipating the worst from him. She was just waiting for him to attack her, to yell at her, to roar in frustration. But he didn't. He stood there, staring at the ground.

"Well," he whispered almost inaudibly, "this is a problem, isn't it?"

Mrs. Lovett was confused. This definitely wasn't the reaction she was anticipating.

"Is that it?" she asked.

Mr. Todd raised his face to hers, an expression of defeat clouding his features. "What am I supposed to say? This is my own fault, I know. If I hadn't . . ." He slumped down in his chair and buried his face in his hands. Mrs. Lovett walked to him and tentatively laid her hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright Mr. T, s'not completely your fault."

"Yes it is!" He growled, lifting his face from his hands. "I betrayed her . . . even though she left me, I still betrayed her. And Johanna . . ."

"Hush now," she whispered. Mr. Todd had buried his face once again in his hands. She'd never seen him act so vulnerable before last night. It was kind of frightening. Like his mind was finally beginning to crack.

"It's ok love, she would forgive you. Don't worry. I'm 'ere for you now."

It was quiet for a while. Mrs. Lovett was too afraid to speak, scared that she might set him off. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Me too."