Time seemed to freeze as Sweeney looked at Nellie, blissfully unaware of the magnitude of what she'd so casually revealed. He had to fight the urge to slap her so hard she didn't feel like talking anymore because it was clear to him that she wasn't in her senses, and he promised her and himself that he would not hurt her anymore. But he couldn't stay idle as she spilled more secrets. He only managed to grab her hand to pull her with him before the other woman predictably started screaming like a banshee.

"Sweeney Todd is aboard the ship!", "Lord take mercy on us!", "Someone save us from the demon barber!" he heard a cacophony of voices yell behind him but he was already running away with Nellie.

Rounding the bridge and the funnel, Sweeney and Nellie made it to the emergency stairs that led to the steerage cabins below, to their cabin. He was intent on shielding her until her coherence returned, but the trapdoor was locked. In an emergency, the sailors had locked the emergency exit. Bloody geniuses, now the killer could go on a rampage if he so fancied. On the overcrowded deck in the middle of the night, pushing someone overboard would be seen as a "regrettable accident".

But at present, Sweeney wasn't in a murderous mindset. He just wanted to get Nellie somewhere where she couldn't put her foot in her mouth and accelerate their sinking in quicksand.

"We'll take the regular stairs. Give me your hand and stay close to me" he told her, already anticipating the hordes of flapping passengers blocking the way. He shivered as his fear of crowds threatened to make a comeback, but he had no choice but to deal with it now.

"Aw, love. You're adorable. So in a hurry to shag me" she commented in amusement. "But we can shag here, baby. You know I love an audience."

She wasn't taking him seriously and while that didn't sit well with him, they had no time for that. Without another word, he grabbed her by the wrist and roughly dragged her with him as he pushed everyone in his way to get to the main entrance.

"Sweeney! You're hurting me" she yelled and when he turned round, his eyes were darker than the night.

"Don't call me that!" he warned, hoping nobody had heard. Fortunately, with everyone screaming his name in their panic-stricken states, no one seemed to bat an eye when Nellie did too. "I'm Charles, Charles!" He grabbed her by the chin, her brown eyes wide in surprise or perhaps fear. Her soft plump mouth scant inches from his. "Your husband."

With that, he kissed her, deeply, brutally, passionately; leaving her breathless and speechless when he pulled apart. He should have remembered this was always the most effective way to shut her up. He licked his lips, savouring the remaining taste of her as he smirked; it was also the most pleasurable one.

With a now somewhat calmed-down Nellie walking with him, they crossed the wooden door to go back inside. Everyone must be on the deck already, for there wasn't many people in the corridor. He had been hoping to use the chaos to his advantage, to blend in and make it to the main stairs undetected, but given the empty state of the corridor, the ship officials spotted them as soon as they set a foot in.

"You are not allowed here. I urge you to return outside until we deem it safe to retire for the night once we conduct the necessary investigation. A vile crime has been committed tonight" one of them informed Sweeney. He managed to remain visibly calm on the outside, conducting himself with the stoicism that befitted a cold-blooded murderer like himself, despite his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Tell me more! Spare me no grisly details!" Nellie jumped in and he found himself eager to shut her up with another bruising kiss. He hated that stupefying thing called love for clouding his judgement and making him lose focus, but she looked even more attractive in this lightning, all dishevelled from the sea breeze, with her eyes as red as the blood of his victims and her lips still swollen from his kiss.

Fortunately, Nellie's comment seemed to go down well with the young ship worker. He chuckled lightly before telling her such details might scandalise even the bravest of ladies and once again, told them to go back outside.

"Please tell me, pretty please, please, please, good sir!" she begged pathetically, like a child as she dropped to her knees in front of the man. Realising her precarious position, she cackled. "I can service you if you tell me, lovey. I'm rather talented. A tongue for a tongue?"

A scandalised Sweeney roughly pulled her up, making her stumble and her head spin. He glared at her, what on earth was she doing? This was too brash even for her. It was as if his Nellie were gone and had been replaced by a sex demon. She had definitely drunk too much, perhaps more than he'd ever seen her for this level of debauchery was unprecedented and frankly, worrying. She was acting like a desperate whore and he was going to have a stern talking with her as soon as she came back to her senses. She is also pregnant, for Pete's sake!

"Please, forgive my wife, she isn't feeling well. Drank way too much at the party" he told the blushing man in front of them as he internally fought to keep his brewing anger in check. It would only make things worse. "That's why I was hoping to take her to our cabin. She is feeling rather poorly as you can see."

"I understand, sir, but that will not be possible at the moment. I urge you to return to the deck until we give you the clear off" he repeated, somehow still conducting himself with politeness and aplomb.

It was in that moment that two sailors exited the bathroom carrying the body of a man. Blood flowed in scarlet streams from a deep wound in his neck, staining his white shirt. His face was one of harrowing surprise, the hollow eyes of the dead seemed to stare at Sweeney, piercing his body to reach the soul. He gulped.

"Mr. Coone! Rotten bugger! Better off dead, he is! That tapeworm!" Nellie blurted out upon seeing who the corpse was. Sweeney woke from his stupor and sprang into action by clapping his hand over her mouth, but it was to no avail. The damage was done.

"Did you know him, m'am?" the ship worker asked her before calling over some his workmates, which seemed to have a much higher rank. They were looking at them with eyes full of suspicion. "I suggest you allow your wife to talk, sir. Not cooperating will only bring you negative consequences."

Reluctantly, Sweeney removed his hand from her mouth. The expression of the ship workers was one of horror when they noticed her mouth and chin were covered with flecks of dried blood. He cursed himself internally for his oversight. "Where did that blood come from, sir?"

"I accidentally cut myself today. I am the ship's barber and I had a little accident with one of my razors up there with all those people flapping like mad" he replied as concisely as he could, hoping Nellie didn't say anything to ruin his lie. He glanced at her calmly licking off the blood around her mouth and noticed that she seemed to be coming down from her high, as if it were a mere sugar rush giving way to sleepiness. He hoped that meant this moment of mania was coming to an end.

Even when she didn't say anything, the personnel looked reluctant to believe him. They just stared at him with piercing eyes as if they could read his mind in search for the truth. Those were some of the tensest seconds of his life until one of them mercifully confirmed he was indeed the ship's barber and that he'd gotten a rather smooth shave from him.

The focus was back on Nellie. It took them a couple of times to get her attention since she was more interested in savouring the blood as she entertained God knows what kind of unholy thoughts, judging by the expression on her face. Always so inappropriate.

"Bloody bastard kissed me. Wanted a shag, he did, but I kicked him in the balls and everything was rosy. Can we go now?" she replied with sudden disinterest, stifling a yawn. She turned to Sweeney with a pout, fluttering her eyelashes. "I'm tired, darling. Take me to bed?"

"Was that tonight?" they pressed on, not caring about anything but their investigation. She just nodded and laid her head on Sweeney's shoulder. Nellie closed her eyes as her sudden tiredness became more evident. The men shared a look that made Sweeney freeze. "I'm afraid you must come with us, madam. The captain wants to ask you some questions. Privately." He turned to Sweeney. "You will have your turn after we are done with her, sir."

They could use all euphemisms they wanted, but Sweeney knew it was an interrogation. On a ship, the captain was the highest authority and even though he wasn't a bobby who could arrest them, he had the power to report them to the authorities when they reached port and send them straight to jail. Unless Nellie somehow regained her ability to lie like a Persian carpet, they were doomed. She seemed to be dozing off on his shoulder and he decided to use it to his advantage.

"I'm sure that can be arranged for some other time. My poor wife is on the verge of passing out" he tried. "We cannot go anywhere, for we are in the middle of the ocean, you can come and find us tomorrow. You know where my barbering cabin is."

The ship workers however remained impassable, arguing that they would like to clear up this incident as soon as possible. Panic took hold of him when the men grabbed Nellie by the shoulders. "Don't touch her!"

"No one will be harmed if you cooperate, sir. I am confident none of you have nothing to hide" the taller of the men sneered. By God, that's a throat to slit, he thought but he rapidly shut it down. It was those thoughts that got him into this mess in the first place.

"Release her at once" a deep collected voice Sweeney was not familiar with spoke with solemn authority, and the ship workers promptly took their claws off Nellie. Sweeney wrapped an arm about her, she looked so confused and vulnerable that he was surprised to find that the feeling prevailing in him in such a tense moment was none other than fierce protectiveness. That was love was all about, he supposed. Caring about one person above everything else.

"The lady is unwell. I am sure these affairs can wait until tomorrow when she is feeling better" Turning around, Sweeney learned that the voice belonged to the infamous Mr. Harold Winslow, Nellie's suitor posing as an altruistic benefactor. Yet at this point, he welcomed his help without reluctance.

"Thank you, sir" Sweeney felt compelled to say when the ship workers left them alone, but he was still wary of the man. He wasn't sure he could trust him. Even if he'd helped them this time, there was something about him he didn't like. Perhaps it was his ever-present jealousy speaking or perhaps it was his uncanny ability to recognise a kindred spirit.

"It is no problem. I've grown rather fond of Mrs. Payne and I am saddened and concerned to see her like this, so completely inebriated. You must know she drank the equivalent of a whole bottle of genever. She downed glass after glass with reckless abandon and my warnings went unheeded. She seemed in great distress…" he told Sweeney, who clenched his jaw until it hurt. How could she be so irresponsible? And for what?

"No, I didn't. Just one sip, one sip only" she muttered against Sweeney's neck, but he had a hard time believing her. Even if she wasn't slurring or singing like she always did when she drank more than she could handle, there was no denying that she looked and acted completely intoxicated.

"I suggest you take her to your cabin. She must rest. The ship workers won't get in your way if you tell them it's me who ordered it. They know how good friends I am with Captain Rawley" Mr. Winslow commented, with an air of superiority that made Sweeney clench his fist. He was a mix of Albert Lovett, Judge Turpin and Adolfo Pirelli, all in one ugly bugger with orange hair. How he longed for him to meet their same fate.

With nothing but a curt nod he hoped didn't betray his disdain for the man, Sweeney left. Nellie could barely walk, it was as if all her energy had been drained in a split second. Hence, Sweeney scooped her up and carried her to their cabin as if they were just married. But the situation couldn't be any more different.

He laid her on the bed and began working on her corset. He wasn't planning on fully undressing her, but the corset had to go for her to breathe properly. He didn't even understand why she wore it in the first place. Careful not to stoke the embers of his desire she lit up a mere half an hour ago, he removed the constricting garment with the ease of many months of practice. She was almost limp in his hands, her breathing steady, leading up to the inevitable deep yet restless slumber of the drunken.

He sighed as he stood up, a million thoughts running through his head. Mr. Coone was going to be more of a nuisance dead than he was alive when he tried to seduce his Nellie, but Sweeney wasn't too worried about that. They had nothing against him. Nellie herself was something else. Why did she act so stupid? Getting drunk with that bastard who could have very well taken advantage of her. Him or anyone, since she seemed keen on offering herself to everything with a pulse like the lowest of trollops.

He didn't want to dwell in it, for he rationally knew it was the alcohol speaking, but part of him was saddened and disappointed that it only took her a few drinks to want to break her promise of only being his, forever. Did she not love him? Furthermore, he reckoned she must have been drunker than ever because the Nellie he knew was always guarded, no matter how befuddled she was. Yet tonight she revealed their best kept secret that could put their freedom and their lives on the line as if it were a trifle. Foolish woman. Dishonest woman. Crooked woman. Lovely woman. Eleanor Lovett drove him mad in more ways than one.

"Hug me?" she muttered. Sweeney was surprised she was still somewhat awake.

"I'm not in the mood" he replied truthfully. He was angry with her, angry with himself, angry with Mr. Winslow and Mr. Coone and everyone on this bloody ship. Angry at the world. Yet it quickly subsided when he noticed a lone tear falling down her pale face.

"I'm sorry, I don't want you to hate me. I love you" she mumbled amidst a yawn, putting her own arms around her torso to hug herself since he wouldn't, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

His heart shrank, how many times did she have to comfort herself because he was a selfish prick who didn't even see she too was struggling? He'd been there physically for more than a year now, but she was still the lonely girl who dreamed about a grand love to sweep her off her feet, the lonely bride who pretended to feel it for her husband when it was her married tenant who had her heart yet didn't want it, the lonely widow who despite her hardships, never once lost hope to one day be loved when she didn't even know what that felt like.

Putting his own feelings aside, he laid behind her in bed, enveloping her small frame in a loving embrace. She wasn't alone anymore, he was there to comfort her, to love on her. And he was no longer alone, either.

He revelled in the feeling of her skin against his, the way her mere closeness had an instantly calming effect on him. After such a night, he finally felt like he could relax. But something was still bothering him. It was question that only on a night like this, when her ability to conceal the truth to protect herself had forsaken her, could find an answer.

"Do you really, Nell? How can you love me? After all that's happened? On Fleet Street… at the bakehouse…" he asked tentatively.

Turning around to face him, Nellie smiled softly, her fingerstips caressing his jawline as her tired eyes studied his features. In a moment of lucidity, she spoke loud and clear. "Silly man, I will always love you. You could kill me for good and I would still love you in the afterlife."

He couldn't stand it; it was too much for him, her truth was more disarming than he'd expected. Tears pooled at his eyes as a strange yet powerful sensation grippled his heart, his windpipes closing in as if he were being chocked. He felt like dying away into the warmth spreading all over his body. Guilt, fear, regret, and distrust faded into oblivion as one feeling soared above the rest. It was love.

Love for the woman he didn't deserve yet he somehow still had, unconditionally; love for the woman who loved him for who he was. The woman with the tortured, wounded heart, but big enough to forgive, to dream and believe. To love. She was the mother of his child, his equal, his partner. With an intelligence and a ruthlessness rivalling his own when times called for it, she could also be kind, warm and caring. A woman with many flaws, just like he was, but that didn't make her any less perfect for him.

It was then that he realised without a doubt that no matter what had happened in this timeline, that even if she was no longer the young innocent newlywed version of herself who never lied to him about Lucy being alive, his love for Nellie Lovett was stronger than it had ever been.

"I love you too, Nellie, so much it hurts. And I want to love you right" he whispered, hoping she finally believed it. She was loved, just as fiercely and deeply as she loved him. He'd never felt like this before.

He planted a kiss on her forehead and with a happy sigh of contentment, Nellie closed her eyes. Sweeney felt her body giving out as her breathing became deeper. She was soon fast asleep.

It didn't take long for him to join her in her slumber. Dark clouds of peril, hindrances and uncertainty loomed in the horizon, but he was confident they would overcome them. They had one another, after all, and together, they could face anything.

That night, with the only woman he'd ever truly loved in his arms, no nightmare dared to plague him.