A/N: Woot next chapter. Uhh I don't really have anything to say except read and review please!

None of these characters are mine. -CRIES-

It was four months after the "incident" and Mrs. Lovett was walking down the cobblestone paths of Fleet Street. It was an unseasonably warm March day and she decided to take a stroll for a little exercise. She wore her slightly bigger belly proudly now. She had endured too much gossip in the past two months to have it bother her anymore. A gaggle of older women passed her, pointing and shaking their heads, but she smiled widely.

"Morning ladies," she said politely. The old women scoffed and walked on. Mrs. Lovett walked more merrily through the streets. Today was an oddly cheerful day. Maybe it was the effect that the past absolutely marvelous months were having on her.

"Mrs. Lovett," Mr. Todd had greeted her one morning. "How are you feeling?" He had said it with so much concern and affection it was a wonder she had not fainted.

"Very well, thank you," she had managed to answer. He had stood there for a while, just looking at her, before retreating back up to his shop. He had done this periodically for a while. Recently, however, she had begun to notice him standing on the balcony of his shop just to watch her as she tended to customers. She found it extremely comforting, knowing he was looking after her.

She remembered one day in particular. It was a couple of days ago. She had been sitting in the parlour, eating some soup, when he suddenly appeared, causing her to slop the soup all over herself.

"Oh, bugger," she had muttered. Mr. Todd had frantically apologized and tried to find a cloth. He had grabbed the closest thing to him and extended it towards Mrs. Lovett. She had been about to take it when suddenly he pulled away.

"I'll, er, do it." Mrs. Lovett's face had turned a bright pink as he had hesitantly patted her neck and dress dry with the cloth. All she had managed to choke out was a small, strangled sound of thanks. When she had finally found her voice she asked, "So what'd you come down for Mr. T?"

"Just . . . checking on you," he had murmured. Instead of rushing back up to his room, he had sat down on the couch next to her. It had taken all of her energy not to squeal with joy. He hadn't talked, he never did, but she enjoyed his company too much to ruin it with chatter.

Mrs. Lovett sighed happily as she remembered this. She felt as if she was in a trance, just floating along on a cloud above the grimy streets. She didn't even feel mildly annoyed when someone grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to stop. A smile was still plastered on her face as she turned around to find herself face to face with Judge Turpin.

"Good day, miss," he stated pleasantly. She had to keep herself from narrowing her eyes. Or striking him on the head and running away.

"And 'ow can I be of service to you, most honorable Judge?" she said through gritted teeth that were hiding behind a now fake smile.

"As you well know, gossip around London travels very quickly, Nellie."

"It's Mrs. Lovett to you, sir." she corrected.

The Judge waved a hand dismissively. "So as you know I understand about your . . . condition."

Mrs. Lovett's fingers traveled unconsciously to her stomach. "Yes?"

"And I think you may be able to help me. You see, I intend on marrying my ward very soon, but I fear she will not accept me. I think if I give her a companion a little closer to her age, she might comply."

Mrs. Lovett stared in horror. "You want my baby?"

The Judge smiled, exposing filthy, crooked teeth. "My, you're the sharp one, aren't you? Of course, I will compensate for your loss. A large sum of money should be enough I think."

"You disgusting man! To think I would give away my baby for your dirty money is absolutely unbelievable! Mark me words, Judge, you will never, EVER, convince me to do such a 'orrid thing."

"I thought you might say that. Which is why I have another alternative, one you might like just as much." He leaned in to her and she could smell his cheap cologne. "If you refuse, I will transport that little bastard child's father all the way to hell. I know you fancy him quite much, and you probably won't want that to happen to him now do you?" he hissed.

Mrs. Lovett gasped. "Y-You can't do that!"

"Oh? And why's that?"

"'Cause I . . ." She didn't know what to do. To lose the child she's never had or the man who she's just beginning to have. "'Cause I'll do it."

oooooooooooooooo

"Beadle," the Judge called as he entered his magnificent house. "We must make another trip to the asylum."

Beadle Bamford appeared in front of him, messily eating a cream-filled pastry. "Oh? So the wench agreed to your proposition my lord?"

"Yes, but rather stubbornly. I'm afraid she may try something fishy. We need another way to tie her down completely."

"There's that little boy, sir. The one she took in after that Italian barber left town. I think she holds quite an affection for him." The Beadle smirked proudly, hoping the Judge would commemorate him for the splendid plan.

"Excellent, Beadle. If it seems she is not going to play along with this, we'll take him."