"Here, take this" Sweeney said as he handed her a piece of bread and half a rotting apple. It wasn't much but it was all he'd been able to procure. Bristol was an expensive city and the inn's owner refused to give him anything else unless he paid for it. She didn't care it was for his pregnant "wife".

Said pregnant woman devoured it in no time. But she hadn't eaten anything since she had a meagre bowl of soup for lunch the day before, so the bread and the apple weren't nearly enough to quench her appetite, much greater now that she was to be a mum. "Is that all?" she asked, a bit miffed. He knew from her last pregnancy that she tended get cranky in two occasions: when she hadn't slept or when she was hungry. He'd taken care of the first cause but hadn't properly prepared to avert the second.

"Yes. We don't have money for anything else" he replied sheepishly. He was ashamed of himself for how he'd managed their finances, but he'd wanted to pamper Nellie for once. Thus, he'd booked them a room with unrestricted views to the sea in an inn that was ten feet away from the beach instead of those rundown guest houses downtown. And he'd gone all out for the wedding, buying her a ruby ring that had taken up most of their budget and finding a dress he thought she'd like. It wasn't black, red or purple like she'd asked once, but it was real silk and was in good condition despite it being second hand. Besides, she mentioned wearing white when she told him about her seaside fantasy. But those unnecessary luxuries had caused him to not be able to feed his "wife" and child… "There will be more when we board the ship. Meals are included with our tickets."

She scoffed. "Yeah, stale bread and soggy porridge and if we're lucky we might get some left over moulding cold cuts from those above to keep us puking our guts out until we arrive. If we arrive… Honestly, Sweeney, I don't understand. We left bloody London with 50 damn pounds, but you just blew it all! You are so irresponsible; you never had to manage the household and it shows. Why would you? Stupid Nellie did it all for you. We'll be living in the streets when we get to New York unless we manage to rob a rich guy blind and throw his body to the sharks!" He smirked at that, for it didn't sound like a bad idea. Nellie frowned, why was he not taking her seriously? "I can't believe I trusted you to make good monetary decisions. I'm hungry now, your child is hungry! But why would you care?" she went on and Sweeney was growing angry, he didn't like to be told off.

"Dammit, Eleanor, of course I do! But if you are so good with money, then why didn't you take care of it? The only thing you've done since we got to Bristol is sleep, take walks along the beach and gone to pubs with your bleeding friends" he spat.

"I can't just take a bloody break, can I? You want your little slave round the clock cooking and cleaning and running errands, making sure we don't spend money we don't have! That's the only thing I'm good for in your eyes!"

"Of course, not" he exclaimed. "You're much…"

"There they are!" A high-pitched female voice shrieked from the other side of the pier, interrupting their conversation. They didn't even have to turn around to see who it was, Marjorie Denton. Sweeney clenched his teeth; he couldn't stand the woman, he considered her an ugly bumpkin version of Nellie. It was no wonder the two had become friends, those churchbells. He looked around, trying to find a place to hide so he didn't have to deal with her or her boorish husband who could only talk about hunting and growing lettuces. But there was nothing he could do, they'd already spotted them and were waving pathetically as they approached them. "Mr. and Mrs. Payne!"

Payne was the surname they'd chosen to start over. It'd been Nellie's idea. "Pain is what brings us together, dear", she'd said rather morosely when they discussed it shortly after arriving to Bristol. And he had to agree, because they wouldn't be where they were now without all the painful experiences they each had endured throughout their lives. And even though they both wished they'd been spared such pain, at the end of the day they overcame those tribulations and they made them stronger. In his eyes, and she knew in hers as well, that was something to be proud of.

"I told you it's Nellie, love. And I think my husband won't mind you calling him Charles" she half-smiled at Sweeney, who nodded stiffly. If that made her happy… he'd tolerate it.

He'd insisted she kept her name, arguing that Eleanor was common enough not to remind everyone of the baker of Fleet Street whenever she introduced herself—assuming their case gained any notoriety, which they had avoided so far. When she asked why he was so adamant, he blurted out "Because I love your name" and surprised, she'd blushed before pecking his lips. When she stated that he couldn't keep Sweeney because it was too unique, the perfect name for himself rolled out of his tongue, "Charles". She'd opened her eyes wide and said "Funny, I've always liked that name…" "Me too… If our child it's a boy, we shall name him Charles, Charlie" and she'd beamed, clearly touched he'd been the one to start the baby naming conversation. "And Estella is a beautiful one for a girl, like in Great Expectations. But I wouldn't want our daughter to be anything like her. I want her to be just like her mother."

What happened next, he could vividly recall. She'd kissed him again, deeply this time, and when he knew it, they were hastily divesting each other of their clothes before joining together in the most passionate of embraces. There was something special about her that night, it was as if his Nellie was in heat and it took several rounds, more than the usual, for her to be fully satisfied. He hadn't complained one bit. She was so desirable, so bold, so unashamed of her sexuality… He'd never met one like her and he loved her even more when she was like this, ravenous for him. She'd allowed him to take from every angle, trying out every position they knew and more and Sweeney was in heaven.

It had been the most passionate encounter they'd shared in a while and he was glad he didn't have to be mindful of the time he spent with Nellie like he did in the other timeline, so he could finally focus on enjoying her and her delicious body; so good, so well-endowed, all around delicious. His memories were enough to get him all flustered and to get his member twitching, eager for a repeat of that night. He reckoned he had to think about something else, something gross like Beadle Bamford's face, if he didn't want to lose control in public.

The Dentons did not seem aware of the lustful thoughts he was entertaining. Those young yokels probably shagged in the pigpen at night and didn't even know what a male erection looked like. But Nellie noticed, of course she did, that sensual witch. However, instead of flashing him a wicked smile and perhaps grinding her pert ass against his front to make things worse like the tease she was, she just shot him a dirty look and discretely elbowed him before returning to her conversation, set on ignoring him. She must be angrier than he thought about the food and he made a mental note to fix her something to eat as soon as they boarded the ship.

"Husband!?" Marjorie exclaimed. "Oh, dear, I'm so happy you married at last! I was so worried about you not showing up yesterday."

"It was just a dizzy spell on my part that delayed our plans. Who would have thought it'd be this hot in November? But we finally married last night and we couldn't be happier" she said as she looked at Sweeney with what she thought were loving eyes. But he, who was fortunate to know what true love in her eyes looked like, could tell this time it was for show. It was as if her eyes suddenly were… hollow.

The two women chitchatted for a while much to Sweeney's dismay, before the ship personnel began calling for the passengers to begin loading their luggage. Nellie grabbed her suitcase, ready to go, but Sweeney did not let her. Surprisingly miffed again even though he was trying to be a gentleman she, however, did not say anything when he whispered "I don't want you to exert yourself" before taking her suitcase from her hand and walking away with Jonathan Denton, who was also carrying his wife's bag and unlike Nellie, she was more than happy to allow him.

The two women were left alone, ready to embark when the personnel said so. Nellie could not concentrate on anything Marjorie said, she was still very hungry. She looked around, but there didn't seem to be any food she could have nearby, and she was slowly agonising. It was then than an older man approached them. "Good evening, ladies. Are you going to board the Elysia?"

"We are! Off to New York!" Marjorie said excitedly and the man chuckled at her enthusiasm. He was around 60 years old, with greying reddish hair, dull green eyes and a long thin moustache comically turned upwards at its ends, reminding Nellie of Adolfo Pirelli. But his top hat and his navy woollen frock coat with gold buttons denoted that this man was much wealthier than the fake Eyetalian. And there was only one reason why a man like that would give women like them his time of the day.

"And we'll be crossing the vast Atlantic in less than nine days! This ship is a wonder of the modern world!" he said proudly. "My good friend John Elder's company designed it with the latest technology and the most luxurious amenities."

"We wouldn't know, we are in steerage" Nellie said rather curtly. She'd dealt with more than her fair share of cocky idiots and she wasn't in the mood to humour this one. The redheaded man took off his hat apologetically.

"That is quite a shame, my lady. You would be quite impressed with how well-appointed the ship is. If you'd like, I could give you a tour. Before everyone boards" he offered. "Moreover, there is currently a small meal being served at the dining saloon. Perhaps you would like to join me for a late dinner?" Nellie's stomach grumbled when he said that.

"I can't, it wouldn't be proper! I'm happily married!" Marjorie was quick to answer, giggling as she showed the man the ring to prove it. Well, there goes my chance, Nellie thought bitterly.

"I assure you I have no intention of disrespecting your marriage, madam. You must forgive this old man if it seemed so, but I respect your decision. What about you?" he said turning to Nellie, a kind smile on his face. "I would be honoured if you joined me."

She was momentarily frozen, this she was not expecting. She'd assumed the man would solely be interested in Marjorie. She was blonde with rosy cheeks, a slender frame, and most importantly, she was young. A pretty girl she knew many men probably fancied, even Sweeney if his behaviour earlier when they were chatting with her was an indication. From certain angles, she could somewhat resemble Lucy… She stopped her train of thought, it was still too painful. In any case, Nellie thought the most she could aspire to was to accompany her friend and the man as a sort of elderly companion when he toured her around and dined with her in order to woo her. But he was now directly asking her! Nellie Lovett, tarnished and tainted, not even anyone's second course if they could help it.

With those looks that denoted that he was swimming in pounds, the man before her could have his pick of women. And there were many beautiful girls around, some of them probably single… so, why her? Was it because she looked the easiest? Throughout her life, she'd favoured low cut dresses because she found it was the only way to get some positive attention instead of being dismissed like any lower-class female. If the men wanted something—her—they tended to be kinder, more accommodating and easier to manipulate, perhaps even truly listen! And that's not to say she didn't enjoy being the object of desire, it just made her feel good about herself, knowing she had the power to drive men mad. But when Sweeney returned, he was either oblivious or dismissive of her seduction. Most of the time he preferred to look at the photograph of a "dead" woman instead of giving himself the chance to enjoy something tangible and alive and full of desire to please him, and that took a toll on her. She couldn't help but wonder whether she had lost her appeal. If she was now old, and haggard, nothing but an aging madame brothel to him whose beauty was rapidly fading…

Even when they started sleeping together, she did not manage to delude herself into believing he'd not prefer to be with his wife instead, blonde and beautiful and years younger than Nellie was now. It was not lost on him how at the beginning of their relationship, he'd reprimand her for not being proper, for not dressing more conservatively, like Lucy was. She'd feared that in the absence of Lucy he'd eventually find himself another young yellow-haired lass, a pretty delicate woman just like he and the abominable Judge used to chat about… that he was settling for her just because she was convenient and very willing—and fairly skilled in the bedroom, that she was very aware of—not because there was anything special or particularly beautiful about her. Seeing this rich man so interested in her company was a boost to her wounded self-esteem. Perhaps her charms weren't yet gone.

"I noticed there is no ring on your pretty finger" the man insisted at her silence, breaking her from her thoughts.

She wanted to go, but she couldn't help but think about Sweeney. Would he be worried if she went with this man she'd just met? Would he be jealous? Angry? Well, I'm not his property. I'm not even his legally, it's just a farce, she told herself, trying to convince herself that she shouldn't care for the feelings of a man who didn't care about hers. He didn't want to marry her, nor did he want the child; he'd forced himself to propose because he was afraid of losing her too and be completely alone, considering how dependant he is on her to tend to his needs. He doesn't care enough to get me a ring when he's been wasting money on God knows what. She could be the selfish one for once, she reckoned, after all she sacrificed for him. Besides, it wasn't like she was going to this man's cabin for a shag. She was just hungry; she was eating for two and her baby demanded food. Her mind was made.

"There certainly isn't" she said and took the arm the old man was offering as the two said their goodbyes to a speechless Marjorie and began ascending the ramp to the ship with the other saloon class passengers.

A ten-course meal is not what Nellie Lovett—now technically Payne— would call a light late dinner or a regular one for that matter. She'd sampled everything from turtle soup to turkey and corned beef, with an assortment of cheeses and some delectable desserts, all while basking in the opulence of the majestic saloon, adorned with not one but two marble fireplaces and golden accents everywhere. The place just exuded gentility, and without a boar's head in sight!

Such ostentatiousness reminded Nellie of a distant past in which she briefly enjoyed all those luxuries… but back then there was a price to pay. This man whose arm she held onto as he excitedly told her about the Elysia was nothing like the deplorable monster who fooled and tricked her years ago. Harold Winslow was respectful, educated, and his conversation was fascinating. Never condescending or snobbish in the way he addressed her, Nellie revelled in everything the older man told her about the ship, from the way it worked to all the little details to improve the passenger's experience—even those in steerage.

It turns out that Mr. Winslow was quite the ship aficionado and decades ago, he had been one of the early investors behind the quasi-defunct Inman Line. Now, he was mostly into the hotel business. That was the reason he was traveling to America, to explore the potential new building of a Winslow-owned hotel in the fast-developing resort town of Atlantic City, a bit south from New York.

But as affable and convivial this man was, Nellie was not stupid. Recently widowed, it was obvious that Mr. Winslow was in desperate need of female company, and she'd noticed his eyes lingering on her exposed bosom more than once. But as long as he was respectful—or alternatively, as long as she could play him so he behaved—she would cultivate that friendship. If anything, just to enjoy those delicious morsels they served in saloon again.

The only issue was Sweeney. Thoughts of the man she still regrettably loved plagued her mind every step she took. She hadn't seen him on the deck, not even when they weighed anchor, and all passengers gathered to witness the moment that would undoubtedly define the rest of their lives. From the top of the steam tower where Nellie and Mr. Winslow watched the ocean linear leave the port of Bristol, she'd sought him in the crowd below, a dark and sullen figure probably cursing the land they were departing from.

But he wasn't there, so she assumed he was probably in their cabin. Perhaps he'd be brooding about the past not even noticing the almost 4 hours that'd passed since she boarded the ship with Mr. Winslow, and she'd be lucky if that were the case. The alternative was him being angry that she was "touring" the ship with another man (although in his paranoid mind, he probably thought they were doing far less innocent activities), his ire brewing the longer she was out of his sight. Knowing how possessive he was—a matter of pride, Nellie knew, because he has shown her time and again that he didn't love her, most notably when he almost threw her and her baby into a blazing oven—that was the likeliest option. And although part of her found it preferrable, morbidly happy to be the one on his mind for once, she was wise enough to be afraid, very afraid. He knew no limits when he was angry.

Thus, she cowardly extended the time she spent with Mr. Winslow, silently begging him not to leave her, to keep her entertained so she didn't think about the monster sulking as he waited for her in their cabin, planning out every detail of her punishment. She was aware that the longer she stayed out of his sight, the madder he was probably getting, but she did not feel brave enough to face him now. Around 10am, her luck was over. Mr. Winslow informed her that he would be playing bridge with some friends, so he regrettably had to leave her. Her mind went blank, and for a second, she found herself on the verge of passing out. But the practical side of her knew had to face the consequences of her actions, even if that made her legs shake and her heart feel like it was about to burst. She'd always been a strong woman; she could face him.

Mr. Winslow offered to escort her to her cabin, like the true gentleman he was, and she found that somewhat comforting. Perhaps from the corridor he could hear her screams and come to her aid if she needed it. But Nellie was so terrified she had completely forgot her cabin number. It didn't matter that she'd spent hours staring at the ticket, daydreaming of her life across the Atlantic, for the love of God she couldn't remember when Harold asked her. She could only thing of the merciless obsidian eyes that awaited her in said cabin.

Mr. Winslow reassured her it was probably due to the stress of the trip and offered to help her by looking at it in the passenger list. "Payne… here it is! Cabin 237, Mrs. Eleanor Payne!" he announced, but he suddenly frowned. "And there's also a Mr. Charles Payne, in the same cabin… I thought you said you weren't married" Nellie's heart skipped a beat, but quickly managed to recover. She offered him a nervous smile, aware that she'd technically hasn't said anything of the sort, just confirmed she was not wearing a ring. "I don't appreciate being lied to Miss Payne… or should I say Mrs. Payne."

"No, I never lied!" she blurted out, trying his best to vanish the memories of the time she'd said those exact words. Like then, this was most like an omission, not a lie, and the matter was much more trivial. But she realised, judging by his reaction, that if she wanted to keep this man's acquaintance, which she was aware could come in handy given his prominence, she'd have to actually lie. "Charles is just my brother, you see?" the lie came as easily as they always did, but part of her was praying Sweeney never found out. If he wasn't mad already… he would be.

"And the Mrs.? Do not attempt to play me a fool, I am warning you" he said, his sunny disposition had given way to a rather imposing man.

"I am not playing you a fool, love. It's Mrs. Payne because I was married once… but my dear Albert was a proper oaf so when he passed, I resolved to return to my maiden name" she said confidently. If there was something Nellie was skilled at, that was deception. She batted her lashes seductively and made a little pout. "I didn't tell you because I'd much rather listen to you than bore you with my woes. Everything you've shared with me today was so fascinating, good sir. Much more than anything I could have told you about my rather pitiful life."

Stroking a man's ego always worked—except in Sweeney's case, the barber was always impassive to her praise—and truth be told, she wasn't really faking it. Nellie had indeed enjoyed the conversation, the chance to talk with a man who treated her with respect and was willing to spend his precious time with her, telling her about interesting facts instead of complaining the price of meat or the latest dalliances of Fleet Street like her former patrons. Or worse, like her daily conversations with a certain someone that consisted mostly of grunts and monosyllables on his part unless they were fighting. He could build long sentences alright when they were fighting, the more vicious the better. She had the scars on her heart to prove it.

The two said their goodbyes when they reached cabin 237, and although she was stoked he expressed his desire to see her again, already anticipating the next scrumptious saloon meal, Nellie was disappointed he left before she entered, walking fast not to be late for his game. Her hand on the handle, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. It wasn't the first time she'd dealt with an angry Sweeney. And you barely made it out alive last time, she said as tears of terror filled her eyes. But for better or for worse they were in it together, and she couldn't avoid him forever. If anything, avoiding him for the 9 days of the trip was not feasible and that would only made him angrier… Besides, despite herself, Nellie still loved him. She tried to channel all the love she had for him into courage as she finally opened the door.

She stepped inside the room, the heavy cabin door closing behind her with a loud bang. Darkness swiftly engulfed her and Nellie had trouble breathing as her whole body tensed up, anticipating the worst. The lights were off and it being an interior cabin, the thin crack under the door was the only source of light. The dizzying motion of the waves was magnified by the darkness, making her sick, but she had no time for that now. She squinted, trying to get used to it as she tremulously took a few steps forward so she could palpate the wall in search for a switch, as Mr. Winslow had told her the whole ship was powered by electricity. All the while, she was as alert as a helpless deer would be in the looming presence of a predator. But she detected no movement, no sound, not even Sweeney's characteristic smell of sweat and lotion that drove her so wild. The only thing she could smell was her own fear.

If she was alone, where was Sweeney? A milliard of possibilities began running through her mind, from the most mundane that he was perhaps having breakfast or taking a stroll on the deck—as uncharacteristic as those options were, she had to consider them for her sanity—to the possibility that he'd just refused to embark, abandoning her and her child forever. She gulped as her treacherous eyes filled with tears and sorrow grippled her masochist heart. Damn you, for still loving a man who never loved you back, she admonished herself as she accidentally kicked what felt like Sweeney's leather travel bag, proving he had indeed boarded the ship. She shook her head, aware of the dangers of jumping to conclusions, it never did her any favours. Then where was he? Was he hiding under the bed? In the closet? Like a beast ready to pounce on its prey. To punish her for what she'd done.

Fear returned in full force, the stifling air of the poorly ventilated room threatening to suffocate her as images of her likely death flashed in front of her eyes. A blade against her neck, her blood running down her body as she powerlessly took her last breath, its ruby red being swallowed by the black of her dress, leaving only drops in its wake as he took her dead body and fed her to the sharks. The child inside of her never growing bigger than a bean because its mother was a fool who stepped inside its heartless father's den. Her feet took over her panicked mind, carrying her to the door, to her escape, even if just temporary. But something made her stop dead in her tracks. Her whole body froze, goosebumps erupted all over her skin.

It was the clinking sound of a razor being sharpened. Unmistakable. Deadly.

"Sweeney?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with every syllable. "Are you there, love?"

In the corner two gleaming dark orbs glowered at her, making her blood run cold.