Oh, boy. I'm not even gonna try to shield myself from the rage this time. Hit me. Slap me. Pull my hair and punch me in the face.

I can't say this was all and entirely worth the eight month wait (at least, I think it was eight months).

I will admit to and fill in all at the bottom. For now, read on.

Toby bolted up from where he was sitting, eyes wide. "N-Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'. Why would we keep somethin' from someone who..." His voice trailed off when Sweeney lifted up a hand, only continuing to leave the expectant girl in the doorway more clueless.

"Toby. Don't." Sweeney's voice was more calm and sobered than Toby had ever pictured (in all the times he'd envisioned this moment). He peered up at Johanna, his heart beginning its annoying, quick thumping that he had sworn time and time again to stifle. Fear wasn't something a man like him should've been able to feel, but, he supposed, it depended on the circumstances.

Johanna's eyes gradually became softer at the barber's deafening silence. It began dawning on her that the situation was that of some personal issue that no doubt involved her, as little as she knew; the look on Mr. Todd's face was evidence enough of his inner conflict. It was a look she realized she had been seeing from him since she first bumped into him and Toby on the street, and now, in the present, she mentally scolded herself for not piecing together the fact that it might've actually meant something.

She started at a hesitant gait across the room. "Mr. Todd-"

"Don't call me that," Sweeney interjected harshly. "You-you shouldn't call me that. Ever."

"What do you propose I call you then?" she asked, exasperated.

When he didn't reply right away, Toby took the moment to add his own input. "I... call 'im sir from time to time, if it helps..."

"Toby." Sweeney pinched the bridge of his nose.

Toby grudgingly propped his elbow up on the arm of the sofa and rested his cheek in the palm of his hand, rolling his eyes. "You shoot down everything I say..."

Mr. Todd narrowed his sable orbs at the young boy, nearly forgetting his daughter's presence in the room. "I don't."

Toby didn't reply. Just continued glaring off into space.

Sweeney stood up from the couch, disgarding Toby for the time being, and grabbed Johanna's hands in his own in a daring burst of courage before she could back away. They were no longer at a safe distance. Not in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," he first said, making Johanna arch a puzzled brow. "I should've told you this the very first night we spent here. I wasn't brave enough. Had you not overheard Toby and I a minute ago, I'd still be hiding the truth from you. I know this for a fact."

Johanna could only cock her head to the side in a lame gesture of still not getting at what the barber was trying to tell her.

Sweeney shrugged his shoulders discomfortably, silently cursing the Judge for the thousandth time already. "I'm your father."

Johanna registered this information with a stoic expression on her face. One that Toby couldn't help thinking she got from her one and only father when he spared another glance upward, unable to tell what Mr. Todd's face read.

Then, ever discreet in her actions, the yellow-haired girl unlocked her hands from Sweeney's and took a step back. She shook her head in mild disbelief and turned around on her heel, walking out of the room.

Toby let out a small puff of air that he'd been holding in, his lungs loosening up. Sweeney remained standing where he was, his shoulders sagging a bit.

That was that. Whether Johanna spoke to him again or not was a mystery in itself. Already, however, he felt a weight being lifted off him, and he somewhat regretted not telling his daughter this information sooner. It not only would've been better for her, but for him, too.

Johanna turned a corner she nearly forgot was part of the house. She saw stairs, and she took them without question, not particularly minding the idea of a floor separating her from the barber at the moment.

Was he... Was he serious?

This couldn't have been right. It simply couldn't have. It was ridiculous; if it was true, then... why now? Why tell her now?

Mr. Todd's words echoed in her mind, however, making her grimace: "I wasn't brave enough."

Right when she thought this man couldn't confuse her more, there he went again. Toby was quite clearly in on it too, and Johanna couldn't help feeling a hint of new resentment for the young lad; perhaps it was related to Turpin in some shape or form, but she wasn't all that fond of things being kept from her.

Stifling a groan (in what she was certain was her first flip out), Johanna wrenched her head from side to side, staring down the short hall that the stairs led up to. She hastily took a left and opened a random door that wasn't quite on the end, opening up to a barren room with wooden flooring and a window at the back. It let a soothing light in, no doubt from the moon.

She padded across the room and sat down on the cold floor, picking up her chin to sit more comfortably on the ledge.

It seemed the window was open just a crack, because Johanna could feel a draft and was faintly capable of smelling the chilling air that wasn't really the freshest scent.

Oh, Antony. I cannot tell you how much I need you right now.

Luke gave in to a large yawn. He was slumped against the very building he had means to trap the barber in, his head drooping. He had long gotten used to the cold, but Patrick, who was walking over with caution, wasn't quite the case.

"Luke?" he tentatively asked, approaching the younger man and eventually kneeling down all together to get a closer look at his face.

Luke looked away, blinking drowsily. "What d'you want, Pat?"

"What do I want?" Patrick wanted a lot of things. The question was actually way grander of an opportunity to answer than Luke made it out to be, but Patrick opted for something a little kinder, before the boy started getting short with him. "I think, my cousin... I want you to rest."

Luke peered up at him, a challenging look sweeping across his features. "Why is that?"

"Because you look exhausted." Patrick blinked, having assumed it was obvious.

"Why would I want to break a streak?" Luke countered, almost agressively.

"Break a...?"

"Well, quite clearly, I've been awake for more than one hundred hours. I'd like to continue this. When the barber is dead, I will sleep."

Patrick rolled his eyes and sat down against the wall, beside his younger cousin. "You think yourself fearsome."

"I'd like to think so, yes," Luke responded. "I would also like to think that it comes across when I speak, but you're making that somewhat harder to believe."

"With good reason." Patrick turned to face him, but Luke was already staring off at something else of interest on the other side of the street. "You're really clever, Luke. I'll give you that."

"But?"

"But," Patrick went on. "I can't quite give you the award for smarts."

Luke snorted. "Isn't cleverness and smarts the same thing?"

"On some levels. Not all, though."

"What's the difference?"

"Cleverness is the ability to outwit those who cross you who come with the intention of making you..." Patrick trailed off, leaving a small pause. Then he gave a grim smile and draped a hand on his cousin's shoulder. "...not alive."

Luke brushed him off with a snort. "Been there, done that, Pat."

"Smarts is..." Patrick's smile faded, replaced with a look of realization. The realization that what he was about to say was what he knew Luke would not want to hear. "...when you know what's right, and 'y'do it." He moved his hand to the side of Luke's face and turned his head until their eyes were locked. "You... know what's right, Luke. Go ahead an' do it."

"I am doing what's right!" Luke snapped, grabbing Patrick's hand in a tight grip and wrenching it away from his face. "I expected you'd be proud! It's not even for me! Ain't that a plus?" He pushed up from the ground, standing with his fists clenched at his sides. "I saw that man slice someone's throat open. An innocent someone."

"I get it," Patrick murmured. "It wasn't right... and I don't expect anyone to miss him once he's gone. It isn't your place to make him gone, Luke!" He stood up as well, making a grab for Luke's shoulders but failing to get a hold.

"Who's place is it? I don't think the role was assigned, Pat." Luke backed up out of Patrick's still reach. "Nobody wants Sweeney Todd dead, because nobody knows what he's done. If they did..." He put an idle hand over his mouth, taking a few ragged breaths of air.
"You're a good lad, Luke. Please just stay out of it."

"I'm a good lad because I'm choosing not to stay out of it. Just wait, Patrick. Just wait."

"Wait? What for?"

"For his true colors to show. It will happen. I will make it happen."

"Mr. Todd..."

"Be silent."

"P-please... Just-just sto-stop. I'll... I'll do... anything."

"Anything, eh?"

Scrap. Scrap. Scrap.

"Yes. It has certainly been a while, hasn't it, my friend?"

"Wh... What?"

"Shush. I am not talking to you."

Where does the light even come from anymore? There is no moon. No sun. No flickering candle. And yet... how you gleam...

"Mr. Todd!" Another raspy breath. A sob.

"Don't speak. Not to me."

"Say something to me! Don't... k-kill me... without saying... som-something."

"Silence kills, doesn't it?" Footsteps against wood. "Of all the bizzarre places and cells and locations I was dragged, wherever it was, stone or sand or wood, Australia all the same... I never did get enough silence. I obviously didn't, I mean. It was what I was given whether I liked it or not. It made things harder to... remember."

"What... What are you...?"

"I remember. I do. But specific moments... Perhaps I fail to remember specific moments, where I was spoken to, because they were so seldom seen. That one time... I knew I was in my cell... One of them... Because I was told..." Another wretched pause. "Well, what I was told doesn't matter. Never will. It will never matter. I have the upper hand. The upper hand holds my ever-so-faithful friend. You're here..."

"Mr. Todd, you're... not making any sense. Please. Stop. Please stop."

"This was what I was destined for. It's all so clear in my head. Those fifteen years... They happened for a reason..."

No... What?! You really aren't making sense. It was never wanted. Never. Oh, my Lucy... She was so lonely, and what are you going on about? Stop this. End this madness. Now!

"Oh, Johanna... My little dove, my sweet. This will only hurt for a split, precious moment... Perhaps your suffering in this world will be over... Oh, what am I saying? Of course it will."

"Mr. Todd, please!"

"Now, now. I won't have any of that."

The creaking of leather followed these words, and a feminine, terrorized squeak to meet it.

"Sir?"

Now, that was a new voice.

"Sir? What're you doing to her? She isn't-"

"Go downstairs, boy."

"No! Let 'er go!"

"Are we forgetting our place, Tobias?"

The mere flick of a wrist. The chime of a blade unsheathing, still hanging in the air even after it was gone. It was thrown without effort, and it met its unfortunate mark. Johanna was screaming again. The young boy's blood was running down the wall, and Sweeney Todd didn't care. He just didn't. Not at all.

"Now, for you..."

"Do-Don't. Please, please, don't!"

Slash! Squelch!

Johanna Barker was no more. The very moment crimson blood hit ashen skin, this was known, and this glorious feeling of power had been missed. So very much.

"Mr. T?"

Mr. Todd bolted up from where he had been lying, his hands finding Toby's shoulders immediately. He breathed deeply through his nose, his heart pounding hysterically in his chest.

"Johanna. Johanna. Where is she?" he growled, tightening his grip on the young boy in front of him who had no doubt been trying to rouse him from sleep for a while.

Toby winced and looked away very briefly, one eye shut when he responded. "Up-upstairs, sir."

Sweeney let go, falling back again and pressing the back of his hand over his eyes. "Good... Good."

"Why?" Toby asked, still the slightest bit timid.

Sweeney felt a sense of relief settle in his chest, knowing he hadn't been murmuring in his sleep, let alone screaming. He could've sworn he had been. "No reason. It's just good."

Toby got up from where he had been knelt. "Happy knowin' you won't 'ave to face 'er for a while yet? Really, you probably won't. She'll need a few hours at best."

Sweeney passed him a glare, but the boy's back was already turned and leaving the room.

Oh... It was his fault for holding it off for so long, and Toby had no reason not to speak to him like he always had. Well, not always, but all the same.

The only thing unknown left in the household was that Toby actually had heard the barber with all the ruckus he was making while he was asleep, though he figured it'd be best not to tell him so. How else would he have known to come inside from the porch to investigate?

Toby often thought the barber did a poor job at covering up his emotions. At least, the ones that counted more than anger. He didn't understand the real reasoning for why Mr. Todd was doing it, which made things all the more frustrating.

He left the house again, standing on the porch and watching the street like he was waiting for something. He didn't know Mr. Todd was a few steps behind him, following him out. He only knew when he heard the creaking of old wood, and the soft sound of breathing.

"Don't know why you went and made it all so subtle," he stated, bitter, not taking his eyes off the street. "Wasn't like this whole big mess was your fault."

"It was... thrust upon me, this mess," Sweeney responded, quiet. "It doesn't keep others from being afraid, Toby. Something I have to live with. If Johanna wants nothing to do with me after this is over, I won't be surprised in the least bit."

"I'm not afraid," Toby muttered.

"Did I say 'others'?" the barber inquired, his eyes flashing. "I meant those who leave me no time to explain. The ones who run away."

"Johanna did that, just now."

"So did you."

Toby's heart lurched. "Right."

"The Judge sent me away. It was a perfect chance, whether I'd find my way back again or not. I could stay in Australia and rot, or I could come home and, still, never be the same. I picked the latter."

"You didn't pick it. Not the bit about... never bein' the same, but..."

"I've got no choice but to face that. Being home - not being there - is best, isn't it?"

Toby didn't reply. He left a pause, and therefore left the frown on Sweeney's face where it was. He eventually did speak, low and unsure, more so than Mr. Todd had ever heard from him. "Just... explain it to her like you did me. In time. Make 'er feel... how wrong it was. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't..." He trailed off.

Sweeney looked away, too tired to heave a sigh. He looked in the opposite direction in which Toby was facing and couldn't help but feel as though something was on the rise. Just around the corner. Leaving him time to duck if he wanted to. It wasn't good.

He began to wonder silently if Toby could sense it, too.

NOW...

Don't worry. This isn't story time like it usually is. I'm just going to try explaining why I haven't posted chapters at all since February.

This chapter has actually been done for a little while now. A little while, as in, perhaps, a month? What I was hoping to do was get a few chapters done and then start posting them. But when nothing was coming to me for the next chapter, I decided to just post this finished one here (that, like I said, isn't even that good).

November is going to be a HUGE month for me. A big, perfect, exciting, juicy month. I've moved onto other fandoms, and while I'll never completely leave this one in the dust, I would like the focus on those others for a while. Which is what brings me to the pressing question, that is admittedly more aimed towards the people who have been waiting (if you guys are even still there) rather than anyone who has just started...

Do you want to see the next chapter up soon? If you do, please tell me. I'll strive to get to work on it. I think I forgot what the push and shove of a good review could do for a writer, given the fact that I haven't posted anything practically all year. It's been horrible. It's made my stomach churn. I feel like I'm breaking some kind of promise to you guys. But the inspiration for this story hasn't exactly been there like it used to be back in 2011, and it's not keeping me as interested in result. I also feel, naggingly, that laziness has something to do with it. I've been doing a little too much watching and thinking and not enough writing.

If no one cares, it's more like a personal goal type thing. I'd like to finish this story. But I have so many new ideas for stories with other movies and such, and it's insanely hard to concentrate on this.

So, if you want to see this story finished, let me know. At least I'll know for sure if it's wanted immediately.