Proof of Heaven

Eleanor hasn't felt so helpless since the day she stood on the dock with Johanna cradled in her arms and watched Benjamin Barker's ship disappear on the horizon. It takes several minutes for Johanna to calm down, and tear-filled eyes lock on hers, as though Johanna is begging her to make everything better. It used to be so easy when she was a child - a cut on the finger, a tangle in blonde locks or flour on a new dress. The answer to all of Johanna's problems was a cookie fresh from the oven, warm and gooey in small hands. Now, Eleanor is fairly certain Johanna could use a glass of gin.

Tucked snugly beneath layers of blankets, three fat pillows propping her up, Johanna takes deep, calming breaths, sniffling and clutching at Eleanor's hand. Her fingers are beginning to grow numb, but Eleanor wouldn't pull away for anything. Using her free hand to trace soothing circles on Johanna's slender arm, she murmurs, "You want some tea, love? Might 'elp you relax."

Johanna shakes her head quickly, her grip on Eleanor's hand tightening. "No, I don't want anything." She sniffles again, looking up at Eleanor with wide eyes. "Just stay with me. Please?"

Brushing blonde hair behind Johanna's ear, Eleanor nods with a soft smile. "Of course, my love. Wild horses couldn't tear me away."

Letting out a quiet breath, Johanna settles against her pillows. "I just don't understand, Auntie Nell. What does he want from me? Why did he follow me here? And the Fosters! He never visited the Fosters so often before, all the servants say so!"

"Johanna, love, you're not breathin'." Eleanor places a hand against the girl's cheek and sighs. "He wants you, obviously. Can't say I blame 'im - any man can see 'ow lovely you are. Turpin's a powerful man, love. 'E probably expects you to swoon that such a wealthy man is showing an interest in you; fall into his open arms and all that." She pauses, swallowing. "It's certainly what 'e thought your mother would do."

Johanna's eyes widen in horror. "H-he what?" With something remarkably similar to morbid fascination, Eleanor watches the realization dawn. "That's him? The corrupt man who took my father away? The man that Mother thinks is perfectly innocent?"

Lips pursed, Eleanor nods.

Johanna's eyes dart wildly around the room, searching the corners, the doors, every inch of the room, as if expecting to find Turpin lurking even here in the safety of her small bedroom. Her panicked gaze returns to Eleanor, and when their eyes meet, she wonders how Johanna's head doesn't burst under the force of that strain. It looks like it might, until something seems to snap out of place in Johanna's brown eyes, the intensity suddenly losing focus, draining out of her stare and her face. She frowns slightly. "I see," Johanna murmurs, eyes dropping to her hands, folded primly atop the blankets.

Frowning worriedly at the rather anticlimactic response, Eleanor watches Johanna carefully as uneasy silence descends between them - for the first time she can remember. Below, she can hear the murmur of voices, Mr. Todd sounding positively irate and Lucy even more timid and hysterical than usual. Even concentrating all her attention on their voices, Eleanor cannot make out a word of their conversation and she gives up, focusing on Johanna once more.

"I'm sorry I never told you before, love," she says, waiting for a reaction. "I told you all the horrible things 'e did without ever tellin' you 'is name. I thought I was protectin' you." She scoffs audibly, shaking her head. "Bloody 'ell, I sounded like your mother just now."

Johanna doesn't so much as blink, still staring fixedly at her hands.

Unnerved, Eleanor wrings her hands in her lap and continues. "Thought I was doin' you a favor – keepin' the name of the man who tore your family apart away from you." She swallows back the regret, realizing the words are painfully true as she says them. "I was wrong, love. You don't need anyone's protection and I think I did more harm than good, keepin' 'is identity secret all these years."

In the strained silence, the sound of Lucy's footsteps on the stairs is deafening and the two women listen as the blonde's bedroom door slams shut with enough force to rattle the windowpanes. Eleanor swallows dryly, wondering briefly what has gotten the darling wife into such a snit before Johanna once again becomes her main concern. The girl hadn't even flinched at Lucy's rather loud fit of temper.

"Love," she says quietly. "You're scarin' me. You 'aven't gone this long without talkin' since you learned 'ow. Say somethin'."

For a moment, Eleanor thinks Johanna will continue to ignore her and she prepares herself to settle in for a long wait. Then, with an air of resolve, Johanna lifts her eyes from her hands and meets Eleanor's gaze with enough intensity to send her reeling backwards if she hadn't been clutching Johanna's hand. For all her determination, Johanna's voice is soft, if not a little frightened as she asks, "What do we do?"

Eleanor smiles slowly – proud beyond words at Johanna's resilience – and strokes her cheek, humming softly. "Leave it to me, dearie."

XxX

When Johanna finally drifts off to sleep, tears drying on her rosy cheeks and fists curled tightly into her quilt, Eleanor presses a soft kiss to her temple and makes her way down the stairs to clean up for the night. In the parlor, Toby is passed out on the settee, clutching a bottle of gin and looking exhausted. Her heart melts and she smiles as she tiptoes over to pull the bottle from his grip. Poor lad must be tuckered out, tending to customers and closing up the shop without her help this evening.

Prying the gin from his hand, Eleanor brushes the boy's hair from his forehead and shakes her head fondly. She'd had no idea when she asked him to stay that she'd become quite so attached to the boy – or so grateful for his help. When she looks at him, curled up before the fire on her settee, looking innocent as a babe except for the smell of gin on his breath, Eleanor can't feel regret for what happened to Signor Pirelli.

She isn't surprised to find Mr. Todd in the pie shop – she hadn't heard him venture upstairs after Lucy's fit of temper – but he seems surprised to see her. Upon hearing her boots against the creaking floor, Mr. Todd looks up sharply, staring at her with startled eyes.

Smiling tentatively, Eleanor wiggles the gin bottle in her hand and the sloshing liquid inside is audible in the quiet room. "Care for a drink, love?"

For a moment, he looks at her so intently, with such a curious expression on his face, that she thinks he might refuse. Thinking back to her inappropriate caress upstairs earlier and the way he'd stared at her in shock, Eleanor cringes. However, instead of telling her to sod off, Mr. Todd blinks, glances at the sticky tabletop in front of him and says quietly, "Yes, thank you."

Something flutters in her chest and she feels a little less like crawling into a corner in shame, and Eleanor realizes she's relieved. This time, when she's poured his drink, she doesn't wait for him to invite her to sit with him. She takes the chair directly across from him and pours herself a glass. Mr. Todd doesn't look as if this bothers him, so she settles more comfortably into her chair and lets out a deep sigh. "Quite a day, eh Mr. T?"

Taking a generous gulp of gin and grimacing, Mr. Todd nods once.

The personal restraint it takes to keep her mouth shut about his fight with Lucy brings Eleanor almost physical pain, but she doesn't want to be caught prying too obviously. Deciding to try another tactic, she drums her fingers against the tabletop, smiling faintly when, after a moment, Mr. Todd glances at her fingers with a scowl. "Let me guess. Our darling Lucy doesn't believe the honorable Judge Turpin 'ad anythin' to do with Botany Bay."

Mr. Todd glances up from his glass to look at her, surprised. He studies her face, and while Eleanor fights back a shiver, she doesn't look away first. Finally, Mr. Todd drops his eyes and asks gruffly, "How did you know?"

Slowly, Eleanor lifts her glass and takes a long sip, contemplating how to voice her thoughts without offending the man's esteemed opinion of his wife. Swallowing and licking her lips, Eleanor trails a finger over the table, stirring the puddle of gin that forms under the bottle, and frowns thoughtfully. "Lucy's a mite too trustin' for this world, Mr. T. People like 'er, wantin' to believe the best in people – they don't understand that sometimes there ain't a good side to a person. Sometimes they're just a slimy ol' git, make no mistake."

Sometimes, people shed their goodness – by choice or because the world takes it away from them – or they never really had it to begin with. Lucy, the silly nit, wanted to believe that everyone was inherently good. A man could break into the pie shop with a club and be caught with his hand in the bloody coffers and Lucy would believe he was trying to secretly donate money to their establishment before she'd believe he wanted to rob them of every last penny.

Eleanor frowns. Perhaps nothing quite so extreme, but she was bloody close.

Mr. Todd watches her continue to tap her fingers with a frown but refrains from asking her to stop. "What makes you so sure it was Judge Turpin, Mrs. Lovett?"

Letting out a short, disbelieving laugh before she can stop herself, Eleanor says, "Impossible not to know who it was. Bloke was always lookin' at 'er, followin' 'er, leerin'...Any man with 'alf a brain knew who was responsible when ol' Ben Barker was finally arrested."

Looking at her with something akin to gratitude, Mr. Todd gives her what she supposes is the closest he gets to a smile these days. Though he looks more pained than anything, she appreciates the effort nonetheless.

Gathering all of her courage, she blurts, "What are we going to do, Mr. T?"

"Do about what, Mrs. Lovett?" He asks, his voice dry.

"You know bloody well what," she snaps. "I remember all too well what 'appened the last time 'e started lurkin' about the pie shop. If it's all the same to you, love, I'd rather not repeat 'istory."

Instead of snarling at her like she expects him to, Mr. Todd glares at the vase of flowers on the tabletop as though it has mortally offended him, and Mrs. Lovett almost expects the lilies to wilt beneath his baleful gaze. "Lucy said Turpin has left her alone all this time. Is it true?"

Eleanor hesitates and Mr. Todd's sharp eyes notice right away. He says nothing but his hand tightens around his glass, fingers flexing noticeably. " 'E does now," she begins, watching his grip loosen minutely. "At first, Turpin didn't so much leave 'er alone as try 'is damnedest to 'ave 'er for the first couple of weeks after you were gone. Lucy - " the naïve twit " – wouldn't think of takin' 'im up on 'is charitable offer." She stops to roll her eyes and swallows disgust with a swig of gin. "Told Turpin 'e had no reason to feel guilty and that she and Johanna would get along just fine on their own. Said she loved 'er husband and wouldn't 'ear of bein' with any other man."

There are many things about Lucy that Eleanor does not understand, that she secretly mocks – the way she sniffs and turns up her nose when she sees something she doesn't approve of, the way she can't cook to save her own skin, or how blind she can be to the most obvious things in the world – but Lucy's devotion to Benjamin Barker is nearly unmatched. Eleanor cannot find it within herself to disrespect such loyalty.

Mr. Todd looks gratified at Eleanor's tale. Probably secure in the knowledge that however flighty his wife could be, and while she might not believe Turpin was the evil man he really was, Lucy had always been true to him. In fact, Mr. Todd looks so relieved that Turpin hadn't touched her that Eleanor wishes there wasn't more to tell.

XxX

The night is damp and chilly. Eleanor wraps a shawl around her bare arms to ward off the cold and climbs the stairs to Lucy and Benjam-she stops, shaking her head-Lucy's apartment. She is so used to putting the two names together, never one without the other. Lucy and Benjamin – like a title. As if neither one is complete without the other. As if they're one person, one unit. A family. She wonders if it will ever be Lucy and Benjamin again.

The door at the top of the stairs is slightly ajar and soft light from inside floods the hallway. Eleanor steps from the shadows into the shaft of light and peers around the doorframe, drawing her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders. Inside the tiny apartment, Lucy is a flurry of movement, Johanna on her hip as she rushes about, gathering petticoats and stockings, scattering hairpins every time she turns too sharply.

Little Johanna seems to find it all very amusing, gurgling happily when Lucy drops a glove or a ribbon, mutters a soft, "Oh dear!" and bends down to pick it up.

Deciding to make herself known, Eleanor slips inside and clears her throat pointedly. Lucy turns quickly, blue eyes slightly wild. "Oh, there you are, Eleanor!" She smiles tightly. "I'm going out for a bit and I'll need you to keep an eye on Johanna. You don't mind, do you?"

"Of course not, love," she steps forward with a soft smile for the baby girl in Lucy's arms, taking the child and hugging her close. Johanna pats a chubby hand against her cheek. "Where are you off to in such a 'urry?"

Lucy smiles brightly, what Eleanor calls her 'hopelessly naïve and dense' smile. "The Beadle is coming by to escort me to Judge Turpin's ball. He says Judge Turpin feels just terrible about what's happened to Benjamin, and he wants to make things right."

Eleanor does not call it the 'hopelessly naïve' smile for nothing.

Trying not to sound too scornful, Eleanor glances down where Johanna is tugging rather forcefully at a red curl and gently extracts her hair from the fat little fist. "And…you believe this?"

Apparently, her tone is not quite innocent enough because Lucy glances up sharply. "Of course I do, Eleanor. Why wouldn't I?"

Eleanor sighs. "Love, you can't honestly expect 'im to send Benjamin home, do you? Judge Turpin is not a man to admit 'e made a mistake – powerful men never do. Too proud."

Lucy sets her jaw in that way that Eleanor knows she thinks is intimidating, though she's never been fazed by it. "I have to try, Eleanor. Judge Turpin is an honorable man and if he can help at all, I have to trust in him."

An hour and a half later, rain is pattering softly against the windowpanes and Johanna sleeps soundly against Eleanor's chest as she paces the length of the pie shop, biting her lip. The Beadle had come for Lucy and they'd dashed away despite Eleanor's oft repeated and loud misgivings on the matter. Something about the situation doesn't sit right with her and she can't seem to make herself just settle next to the fire with Johanna and wait for Lucy to return.

"Silly nit," she mutters to herself, rubbing a hand softly along Johanna's back. "I tried to tell 'er and it's 'er own bloody fault if she gets 'erself into trouble. I ain't 'er soddin' keeper."

She nods once to the empty pie shop, listening to the rain splatter against the pavement outside and batter the windows. Johanna shifts in her sleep, emitting a heavy sigh.

Huffing irritably, Eleanor swiftly reaches for her shawl and covers Johanna with it before stepping out into the rainy night, muttering about her bleeding conscience the whole way to Judge Turpin's mansion. Hair dripping and skirts sodden, Eleanor lifts her shawl to check on the dry, content infant in her arms as she turns onto the little lane where Turpin resides. "Your mother is a bloody twit. God 'elp us all if you've inherited 'er brains, love."

Coming to a halt outside the opulent mansion, Eleanor stands out on the sidewalk and stares. Of course, she's seen Turpin's house before but always in the light of day. Tonight, in the rainy mist, with the windows lit up from within, shadows dancing across the walls in extravagant twirls and refined music drifting out to her on the late night breeze, Eleanor thinks the place looks less like a prominent Judge's home and more like a den of depravity. Though, she supposes, considering who lives here, they're one and the same.

Pushing open the wrought iron gate and stepping into the yard, Eleanor cautiously approaches the house and climbs the stone steps to the porch, her water-logged skirts trailing behind her and Johanna nestled safely in her arms. She tries knocking insistently on the door, but considering the music and voices coming from within, she doubts anyone can hear her. She gives this up as a lost endeavor and just pushes the door open, slipping inside.

Her impression of the mansion from the outside is tame compared to the one awaiting her from within. Silk, damask and velvet is draped everywhere, mirrors are arranged in just the right way to make her feel as though she's stepped into a carnival house and everywhere she looks are men and women dressed in their finest clothes. They're all wearing grotesque masks, drinking from champagne flutes and laughing as if they haven't a care in the world. One wouldn't think so many were outside begging for alms with the way this lot carries on.

Catching herself before she emits a very Lucy-like sniff of disapproval, Eleanor tightens her hold on Johanna and adjusts the blanket so that if the child wakes, the first thing she sees will not be the whimsical demon masks surrounding them. Drifting from the foyer into the fray, Eleanor winds her way around entwined couples, twirling dancers and almost trips over the violin player in the ballroom.

"Sorry, love," she says absently, peering around the room for Lucy and ignoring the violinist's glare.

It doesn't take long to spot golden blonde curls across the ballroom – Lucy is stumbling along the far wall, tripping over her skirts and clutching a glass of champagne. Her hair looks less than perfect for once, wisps and tendrils falling from the intricate knot at the back of her head to hang around her face. Her cheeks are flushed and her posture is sloppy. Eleanor raises an eyebrow, intrigued. Lucy looks utterly drunk.

Jaw set and arms tight around the miraculously still-sleeping Johanna, Eleanor makes her way through the crowd and to Lucy. The blonde brightens when she spots Eleanor, smiling beatifically.

"Nellie, darling!" She says cheerily, her speak too slurred for someone drunk on champagne – and Eleanor can't remember the last time Lucy called her 'Nellie'. "How - " Lucy hiccups, " - lovely to see you here."

Lucy sounds like she's been lying in the gutter drinking rum for days and Eleanor bites down on the urge to scold her. Now isn't the time. "Yes, what a bloomin' coincidence." She swipes Lucy's drink from her easily enough, considering the woman's reflexes just now. She sniffs at it suspiciously. "'Ave you seen Judge Turpin?"

Lucy furrows her brow and mouths the words 'Judge Turpin' as if trying to figure out what it means and how it applies to her. She shifts her weight and steps on her skirts, barely managing to catch herself on the wall before she hits the marble floor. She giggles to herself, covering her mouth with a slim hand when a snort escapes.

Exasperated, Eleanor shakes her head and sets down the drink before grabbing Lucy's arm. "Alright, love. I think you've 'ad enough. Time to go home now."

"Oh, I'd love to, Nellie, darling. Really, I would," Lucy gestures wildly and Eleanor grips her elbow more tightly, beginning to steer her through the crowd with her free hand. "But y'see, 'm almost certain there's something I need to do here…" She frowns thoughtfully. "And until I remember, 'm afraid I must stay."

By this time, they've reached the door and Lucy is too disoriented to even notice. Eleanor has no idea what Lucy has done with her shawl, but she isn't about to search for it. If Lucy happens to catch a cold, then serves her right for being so gullible. The twit is lucky Eleanor got to her before Turpin found her.

In the midst of guiding Lucy through the front door and out onto the porch steps, an all too familiar, nasal voice in the foyer makes Eleanor stop with a cringe.

"Going so soon, Mrs. Barker?"

Eleanor shoves Lucy out the door before turning on her heel and leveling a glare at the man standing before her in a red velvet overcoat, his mask hanging limply in his hand. "Yes, poor thing's all tuckered out. Thanks so much for the drink, dear." She turns to leave but Turpin grabs her arm, his grip hard enough to make her wince.

"Mrs. Lovett," he says silkily, eyebrow raised. "Were you on the guest list? I must remember to be more discerning in the future."

While Eleanor glares and mutters about not being caught dead at a brothel, Turpin's gaze focuses past Eleanor, to Lucy hovering near the street lamp outside, hanging onto it and grinning stupidly. His gaze lingers a little too long and Eleanor fights back a disgusted shiver on Lucy's behalf. She tries to yank her arm from his grasp but he merely tightens spindly fingers and looks down at her in stifled amusement.

"Mrs. Barker and I aren't quite ready to part company, Mrs. Lovett," he murmurs and she wrinkles her nose at his breath against her ear. "There is much we still need to discuss. I'll have my driver escort her home when we're through."

Eleanor continues to struggle against his grip but he doesn't relent. Baring her teeth, she sneers, "Sure you'd love that, wouldn't you? The lovely, drugged Mrs. Barker all to yourself, hm?"

Turpin's eyes narrow. "I don't know what you are referring to, madam, but I can assure you that - "

"No, love," she interrupts shortly. "Let me assure you." Swiftly and without hesitation, Eleanor brings her knee up hard and Turpin's face crumples. He releases his grip on her arm in favor of clutching his groin. He sinks to his knees and gasps while Eleanor glares down at him. "I know what you're doin'. You stay away from Lucy Barker or it'll be worse next time."

Turpin, red-faced and watery-eyed, gapes up at her.

Smiling pleasantly, Eleanor bends down to his level, mindful of the fussing babe in her arms. "I'll cut it off, love. Won't hesitate." She winks. "Do we 'ave an understandin'?"

He nods jerkily and she pinches his cheek.

"Good. Lovely party, dear."

With that, Eleanor turns and climbs down the steps, brushing damp curls from her forehead. Turpin kneels there outside his door, watching them walk off down the lane – Lucy stumbling at Eleanor's side and Johanna's wail piercing the night.

The next morning, Lucy wakes up with a headache and only vague memories of the night before. She accuses Eleanor of crashing Turpin's party and hauling her away before she had a chance to speak with the Judge.

Eleanor, despite her annoyance, tries to defend herself. "Love, 'e put somethin' in your drink. You wouldn't 'ave wanted to talk to 'im when 'e found you. And talkin' was probably the farthest thing from 'is depraved li'tle mind, too."

Sitting up in bed and wincing at her pounding head, Lucy grumbles, "Don't be ridiculous. Judge Turpin may have a bit of reputation but he's an honorable man. And he did not drug me - I merely had too much champagne. Honestly, Eleanor. I'm not a child." She sighs wearily. "Although, I'm quite mortified that I managed to get so drunk." Biting her lip, she looks up at Eleanor hopefully. "I didn't do anything too terribly embarrassing, did I?"

Feeling vindictive in the wake of Lucy's obliviousness, Eleanor shrugs and lies, "Oh, only if you call standing on Judge Turpin's dinin' table and singin' Twinkle Twinkle Little Star - which you dedicated to 'is draperies - embarrassin'."

Mortified, Lucy groans and pulls the covers over her head, curling up into a ball. She completely misses Eleanor's smirk as she slips out the door.

XxX

The supply of gin in the bottle has dwindled significantly in the hours following Mrs. Lovett's story. Sweeney Todd sits across from the baker, draining the last of the alcohol into a shot glass and tossing it back with zeal. He grits his teeth against the sting in his throat and directs his still-sharp gaze across the table. Slumped forward in her seat, head resting on her folded arms, and scarlet curls free from pins and spilling over the table, Mrs. Lovett is sound asleep.

Sweeney's mouth quirks as Mrs. Lovett's brow furrows in her sleep and she murmurs, "Forgot to tip…bugger."

He allows himself to watch her for just a moment longer before forcing his gaze elsewhere. His eyes land on the street outside the pie shop windows and he notices with a vague sort of detachment that the darkness outside is softening into something warmer and the damp cobblestones are beginning to shine with the very first rays of sunlight.

After Mrs. Lovett had finished her tale, Sweeney had been unable to think of anything but Lucy stumbling around Turpin's mansion in her drugged state and what might have happened if Mrs. Lovett hadn't come after her. His lip curls in disgust and he tightens his grip on his empty glass, wishing he had the energy to get up and retrieve another bottle.

The truth of the matter is that something must be done. Turpin is not a man to let go of something he wants. If not for Mrs. Lovett's rather unique way of dealing with the man, Sweeney very much doubts he would have had a wife to come home to. Turpin is not about to just forget about Johanna – once he becomes fixated on one person in particular, he will plot, connive and cheat until he has what he wants. He will not loosen his grip until he strangles the life from his victim. Like a lowly snake, slithering on its belly through the grass.

Someone is going to have to destroy the snake before it sinks its fangs in.

Just as the sun peaks over the buildings outside and its rays pierce through the pie shop windows, landing on Mrs. Lovett's closed lids, Sweeney hears footsteps on the stairs. Mrs. Lovett winces petulantly at the sunlight in her eyes, turning her head from it and blinking sleepily. She mumbles something along the lines of "Morning, Mr. T" before she rests her forehead against the table and groans in misery.

"Eleanor?" A voice comes from just down the hallway, and light footsteps let them know someone is coming into the pie shop. "Are you awake already?"

Mrs. Lovett stiffens immediately and lifts her sleep-ruffled head just as Lucy walks into the room, already dressed for work. Alert blue eyes meet bleary brown ones and for a moment, there is silence.

Curling her fingers around the doorframe, Lucy eyes them both with disapproval. "Benjamin, you didn't come to bed last night. Is this where you were?"

XxX

Waking up with a headache from hell itself and finding Lucy Barker's accusatory stare on her isn't a good start to Eleanor's day. It takes her a moment to understand why she has woken up in the pie shop, but when she does, she nearly groans aloud. It's the last time she has a late night glass of gin with Mr. Todd – the man could have at least woken her up before sunrise.

Straightening from her slouch and patting uselessly at her hair, Eleanor attempts a smile. "We were just 'avin' a drink last night, love," she says before Mr. Todd can fumble for a reply. She keeps her voice quiet, so as not to upset the pounding in her head. "Mr. Todd was kind enough to let me be when I passed out 'ere."

Lucy raises her eyebrows skeptically. "And being the gentleman that he is, he couldn't just leave you here and come to bed."

Eleanor refuses to be cowed by Lucy's dry response, beaming at her instead. "Quite right, dear. So glad you understand." She stands, pushing back her chair and wincing at the scraping sound it makes against the floor. She is never sleeping at a table again if this headache is going to be her reward. "I'll just be goin' to check on Johanna, then."

"She's still asleep, Eleanor," Lucy says, her eyes on Mr. Todd now. "I looked in on her before I came down here." Tearing her eyes away from Mr. Todd, who looks distinctly scolded even though Lucy hasn't said a word, Lucy licks her lips and stares at the floor uncomfortably. "Thank you…for looking after her last night."

Eleanor nods and murmurs, "Of course dear."

The atmosphere in the room is wrought with tension and it makes Eleanor's skin itch. Mr. Todd's expression is one of anguish as he glares silently at the tabletop, unmoving. Lucy stands in the doorway, hands folded in front of her and her gaze glued firmly to the floor. Eleanor watches them with a feeling of detachment, uncomfortably aware that she doesn't belong. Rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck, she opens her mouth to make a weak excuse to leave the room when Lucy finally looks up at her husband.

"Benjamin," she says and he glances up at her with hope-filled eyes. The look makes Eleanor's chest ache and she swallows painfully. "Don't you think you should ready your shop for opening? You know how gentlemen like to have a shave before work in the mornings."

Mr. Todd looks only mildly disappointed, and Eleanor supposes he's content to have her talk to him, no matter what Lucy actually says. It's enough just to hear her voice.

The ache intensifies – Eleanor resolutely ignores it.

Silence reigns as Mr. Todd stands and walks across the room, heavy boots clunking against the floorboards. When he reaches the doorway, Lucy reaches out with a hesitant hand and clutches at his arm. Mr. Todd freezes, turning slowly to look down at his wife. Lucy stares at her hand on his arm, as though shocked at her own boldness. She flinches only slightly when she meets Mr. Todd's gaze and Eleanor wonders what she sees there – whether Mr. Todd's eyes reflect the loss, sorrow and bloodshed his very being seems to exude.

Whatever she sees, Lucy manages a strained smile and says softly, "Have a good day, Benjamin."

The corner of Mr. Todd's mouth twitches. Eleanor isn't sure if it's from delight that Lucy is making an effort or merely annoyance at Lucy's continued use of his old name. Although, she's fairly certain the latter is only wishful thinking on her part. In any case, as Lucy's hand slips from his arm, he rumbles, "Of course," and strides from the room.

Neither woman moves until they hear his footsteps on the stairs to his shop. Not about to stay in the pie shop and let Lucy berate her for letting her husband drink, Eleanor moves to walk into the kitchen. She makes it to the door when Lucy's voice s stops her.

"He shouted at me."

Holding back a sigh, Eleanor pivots on her heel to look at the blonde. "What was that, love?"

"Last night, after you went upstairs. We had an argument and he shouted at me." Lucy's back is to her, rigid and posture-perfect. As always. The sun's rays are creeping over the buildings in the distance, piercing through the yellowed curtains of the pie shop and bathing Lucy in an ethereal light. It spins her hair gold and washes her white gown a faint pink. She looks like some strange goddess, so lovely that Eleanor feels washed out and meek in comparison. It's always been this way, but after Benjamin was gone, Eleanor stopped constantly comparing herself.

Swallowing back the sudden lump in her throat, Eleanor rasps, "Couples argue, love. S'normal."

Lucy shakes her head, turning to look at Eleanor. Her blue eyes are bright with tears. "Benjamin never raised his voice."

"That man is not Benjamin," Eleanor says quietly, suddenly feeling a strong wave of pity for the woman who lost everything. "You need to come to start acceptin' that or nothin' will ever change."

Blinking and causing tears to slide down her rosy cheeks, Lucy says in a watery voice, "I thought working in his shop again might change him, make him remember who he was." She takes a deep breath, reaching up a trembling hand to wipe at her eyes. "I don't know what else to do. Where is he, Eleanor? Where is my husband?"

Eleanor eyes Lucy curiously as she walks to the window, pressing a slender hand to the smudged glass and looking out into the street. "'E's in 'is shop, love. You know that – you just sent 'im there."

Lucy lets out a laugh that sounds more bitter than a scoff. "That man isn't my husband." She sighs shakily, her breath fogging the window glass. "I don't know what he is."

Her next words hurt to speak out loud, but Eleanor is nothing if not honest. "That man loves you. 'E'd give you the bloomin' moon if you asked for it. Isn't that enough to start over?" She thinks of Lucy's touch on his arm, of Mr. Todd's tender expression whenever Lucy is near. The way he looks at her like she's too far away for him to touch even when she's sitting right next to him. "You two could 'ave a life, you know. Maybe not like you dreamed it would be, or the life you remember…but you could get by."

Lucy sniffles, shaking her head as she lightly touches the curtains at the windows, holding yellowed material between her fingers. "I don't want to get by, Eleanor. I want my life – the wonderful life I've pictured we would have together all these years."

Exasperated and not sure how to make Lucy see reason, if nothing else, for Johanna and Mr. Todd, Eleanor slaps her hand against the doorframe. "Don't you understand, you silly twit? That's just a dream – a fantasy! And if you want to be truly 'appy, you're goin' to 'ave to let go of that."

"It's not that easy." Lucy sounds very close to tears again and this time, Eleanor feels no pity. "Why can't he be the way he used to be?"

"Because that's not who 'e is anymore!" Eleanor snaps, running a hand through disheveled curls, if only to keep from slapping some sense into the blonde. "Bloody 'ell, Lucy! Would you stop tryin' to make 'im be somethin' 'e isn't? Just stop it! Stop makin' everyone else miserable just because you can't find it in yourself to be 'appy!"

Lucy finally turns to look at her, glaring through her tears. "You think I don't want to be happy? Do you honestly believe that when he lies down beside me at night, I don't wish he would turn over and hold me?"

"If 'e did, you'd stiffen up like a bloody corpse and you know it - "

"This isn't easy for me, Eleanor!" Lucy shakes her head in frustration, looking down at her trembling hands. "I touched his arm, just a few minutes ago. I don't know why. I suppose I thought I might feel what I once did when I touched him – that familiar warmth and affection. The way I knew I was his world whenever he looked at me." She smiles sadly. "He looks at you that way now."

Heart in her throat, Eleanor breathes, "What?"

Lucy ignores her. "He looked at me with the same disappointment in his eyes that I've felt every day since his return." She remains silent for a moment, stoicly staring out the window again, her mind fifteen years away. "I see the way he looks at you. As if you're the only one in the world who could possibly understand him. He feels a kinship towards you."

Wanting to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation, at the idea of Benjamin or Sweeney Todd ever choosing someone like her over the radiant goddess called Lucy Barker, Eleanor begins to scoff, heart pounding, not daring to hope. "What -"

"Don't insult me, Eleanor," Lucy interrupts quietly. "I like to think I still know my husband a little." She sighs softly, running a trembling hand over the front of her bodice. "You are his only companion now."

"Stop it," Eleanor snaps, pale and determined. Lucy looks up at her, startled. "Don't you dare put this on me. I'm just the only one 'e's got to talk to now. You're pushin' 'im away, dear. It ain't no one's fault but your own." She swallows painfully, hoping the lump in her throat will disappear and her voice won't catch on her next words. "You want 'im to hold you? Hold 'im first."

In the silence that follows her words, she and Lucy regard each other without animosity for the first time since Sweeney Todd walked through their door. Eleanor wonders if things will ever be the same between them again. Granted, things had never been perfect. She has never liked Lucy, but there had always been rare moments of camaraderie between the bickering. Now, standing on opposite sides of the room, a quietly beautiful man between them once more, Eleanor doubts they'll ever have that peace again.

Suddenly, footsteps come from the hallway leading into the pie shop and both women turn at a thump and a muffled curse, waiting quietly as Toby walks into the room. Sleepy-eyed and scratching at his hair, he yawns. Looking between them with a furrowed brow, he sniffs the air. "Do I smell gin?"

Eleanor snorts, and Lucy's mouth quirks before she can stifle the urge to smile. "It's in the kitchen, love. Just one glass, now."

Toby nods, yawning again as he stumbles into the kitchen.

Lucy clears her throat in the ensuing silence. "Well, I must be off. I'll be late, as it is." She turns to leave, but stops halfway across the room, a strange look in her eyes. "Look after them while I'm gone?"

Eleanor musters up a smile she doesn't feel. "Always, love."

A/N – Major props to Robynne, without whom, I would still be on page five. She bothered me every day and demanded a new piece of writing in her inbox before bedtime. She's a freaking Chapter Nazi and I don't know where I'd be without her.

Also, I'm so sorry that it's been five thousand years since I last updated. College has sapped a lot of my time, and I just lost myself in piles of homework and research papers and presentations. I definitely lost my momentum for a while. Not to mention the shiny, new allure of other fandoms. Haha But I slowly got back on track and managed to get this chapter finished. Hopefully there are still people out there to read it:D Also, there's a huge mountain of reviews in my inbox that I haven't replied to but I want you all to know how much I love and appreciate every bit of feedback you send me. And I promise to reply to the reviews for this chapter. How are you all, anyway? I've missed my peeps!

In other news, what the heck happened to the chapter breaks? That is so fricking annoying. It makes my stories look all jumbled! Sorry about that guys. Hopefully this new system of mine will work. Much love!