A/N: Thank you all for the birthday wishes :) They made me giggly and warm inside. Which, er, says a lot. Sorry for the delay, I recently got cast as Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I'm pretty ecstatic, I wanted the role so bad. Right. Anyways. Have to write that chapter now. Onto that!

Chapter Eight

The smitten baker and frazzled boy bounced lightly in their seats as their handsome carriage raced out of London, heading south. The dark cab was deathly silent as it sped in the murkiness of the roads, Nellie still grasping Toby's hand to comfort both the boy and herself. She turned to look at the child, a small frown tugging at her lips.

The boy sat, very tense, irritated almost, his eyes dark and glaring ahead of him, probably at Mr. Todd who was separated by a heavy curtain that led to the front of hooded buggy. The poor lad looked exhausted indeed, his blue eyes bleary, his face hardened and harsh. Toby, for some strange reason, seemed to struggle on keeping his gaze straight in front of him, not wanting to return her glance.

Weary, Mrs. Lovett let out a long breath through her nose, turning to look out the smeared window of the carriage, her voice hardly a murmur.

"'Ow long 'ave ya known?"

Toby's voice was firm, still staring straight ahead of himself, not letting go of her hand, in fact holding it tightly now. "A good while, actually," he admitted, "I overheard the both of you talkin' one night about what ta do with some of the clothin' and such from...the bodies." He was fumbling with his words, apparently very disgusted, troubling Nellie. "I didn't wan' to admit it to me self, I guess. I mean...it was a right awful thing ya did to those people, mum." He turned to look at her now, fearful almost, wanting to hear her deny the cruelness of her secrets.

Nellie wouldn't lie to the boy, though, focusing her gaze on the orange sunset that was smeared over the tops of buildings. "I know it was," she drawled quietly, abashed, "But Mr. T-"

"Why does everything 'ave to center 'round Mr. Todd?" Toby snapped suddenly, causing Nellie to look at the sunset with a stubborn disapproval. "E's all you think about, really! You get up in the mornin', and yer off all quick-like to see if 'e slept, when we both know that 'e down right hasn't. Then at lunch time, I see ya, constantly lookin' up at the ceiling with that worried lil' glint in your eye."

The boy paused now, his voice dropping so only she could hear if she strained. "And at supper, ya always are making 'im food and such, even though 'e never eats. Sometimes I feel invisible when you're day dreaming of 'im, like you've forgotten I'm there," he cut off, feeling foolish for having spouted on like this, letting go of her hand.

Nellie quickly turned to him, secretly glad he had changed the subject to himself, and yet her eyes flashed with a sharp motherly compassion. "Now I won't 'ave any of that," she exclaimed, taking him firmly by the shoulders. "Don' you even start thinkin' such nonsense, Toby. I could never forget about you, love!"

She gave him a long, hard look, full of guilt and honesty. "You're like a son ta me, dear, if you weren't 'ere with me, especially now..." she trailed off, looking down for a moment, only a moment, coming back up to meet him with saddened eyes, brimming with tears. Nellie opened her arms and pulled the boy close to herself. "Don't you ever even think it, ya here me?"

Toby nodded quietly and succumbed to her affection, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. Then, gently he whispered:

"I won't ever again, mum."

Nellie ran a hand through his unruly brown hair, both of them falling silent, her arms and back aching as she held him firmly to her chest. They were so much alike, she realized, the thought having struck her in this returning silence.

The both of them would go to the ends of the earth to protect the ones they loved, would climb mountains if it meant they were safe and sound. Both were extremely hard workers, hardly ever whining, and always willing to lend a hand. The two of them were vulnerable, with wild hair and big eyes, practical souls, and Nellie decided that it was a blessing that young thing had found his way into her arms. They both needed each other and would soon depend on each other to survive this, as Mr. T called it, venomous world.

Mrs. Lovett soon felt Toby's grasp loosen from around her middle, and her eyes flicked downward to see him dozing lightly, a bit more at ease. "Poor thing," she mumbled, pulling him closer to herself, as if to shield way nightmares from his simple head.

She then, reluctantly, almost ashamed from Toby's earlier words, looked up at the heavy curtain separating herself from the driving barber. Almost an hour had passed since they had left London, and she reflected back to her casual fantasy of the day he would kill Judge Turpin.

Todd would bound down the stairs, drenched in blood, grinning wildly, and would swoop her up into his arms in one swift motion, kissing her soundly on lips, the demon from within himself having been slaughtered as well. She'd kiss him back, pink faced, not caring in the least that he was getting blood on her lips and dresses. The three of them would, of course, move away that night on an impulse, without a care in the world, to a nice little place by the seaside.

Yet, Judge Turpin was now slaughtered indeed, and as Nellie's head began to pound once more, her foot throbbing away still, hugging small Toby, her earlier day dream was as alive as her dear, rotting Albert.

Too much had happened in such little time, she concluded, almost too much for her to handle. It would be a couple more hours for it to have been only one day since she had been...assaulted.

The frail woman shuddered now, not wanting to think of it as rape, closing her eyes, the events soaking into her skin. She had been momentarily distracted from reality, the meaning behind it, all the aches and pains. She swallowed hard, memories from the evening before viciously snipping at her.

Judge Turpin had whispered horrible things to her, phrases and moans that made her skin crawl with disgust. She remembered how graphic it had all seemed, as he hovered over her in the dull light of the moon, as if the Lord had wanted her to remember every inch and detail of the torture she was being put through.

How her had throat seared, still screaming despite having been physically mute, and such a repulsive smell the man had carried: sweat, whiskey, cigars, a strong cologne. His lust for her was more violent than she could have ever imagined.

Nellie Lovett wouldn't admit to herself that she had weakened a little since the assault, physically and emotionally, but the inner strength she once held so dear was torn and stabbed at. She opened her eyes to gaze out the window, only to find her vision blurred with tears, feeling ill.

So ill, in fact, that she lightly moved Toby away from her, placed a hand on her stomach, and pulled back the velvety curtain with a shaking hand. "Mr. Todd, please, we 'ave to stop."

When they had left virtuous London, Sweeney Todd had tightly gripped reins of the galloping horse, his knuckles white, sitting with a rigid back in the rickety cushioned seat of the buggy. He and Mrs. Lovett had planned out many things, yes, but they had brushed past a vital detail: Neither Sweeney, or Benjamin Barker for that matter, had ever steered a coach.

The barber hadn't thought much of it, the men with their whips and polished shoes making the whole ordeal look entirely too easy. As he swerved sharply around what should have been a simple turn, however, Sweeney glared harshly at the horses, frustrated, cursing them under his breath.

Todd had made sure to tell Anthony to fetch a carriage with a long hood to shadow his face, knowing that he would otherwise be out in the open to be arrested and shot at. Even then, with no proper substance to hide behind, the pale man was pleased to find that the vermin of the world were oh so blind. He had easily sped past what might have been yet another mob of people, looking for the killers, following innocently behind another coach.

Soon enough, they were far away from the dirtied London, and he had managed to keep the two horses in front of him at an easy trot. Despite the devilish relief of escaping the police, Sweeney was vaguely disappointed in his lack of joy that should have been gushing out along side the blood of Turpin's neck. He hadn't thought much of what would become of him afterwords, but had assumed that the grief-stricken, sorrowful ropes would be cut, and perhaps he would join his Lucy in death, feeling merry to be with her again.

Nothing was making sense to Todd as he headed down an empty, gravely road to Norbury, his black eyes shining. The constant sting he had felt before Turpin's death was still lingering, mockingly, and much to his chagrin, it was the same emotion that had pulsed through him the night before, when he bandaged his broken landlady.

"...we 'ave to stop," spoke said landlady now, her voice breathy and deep.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, he looked over his shoulder for a moment, not really looking at the woman, afraid of what feelings she would bring him. "Not yet, just an hour more and we'll be at that abandoned house you spoke of."

"Mr. T," she breathed, her voice lower now, "Unless you want to 'ave our main source o' transportation reek of yesterday's supper, you'd do as I say."

Sweeney made a face, turning to look at her closely now, seeing her flushed gaze. He grimaced.

Not five minutes later was he standing beside the cab and horses, awkwardly, trying not to gaze in Mrs. Lovett's direction as she emptied her stomach behind a nearby tree.

Much to Nellie's misfortune, even when she was sure everything was out of her system, the baker continued to lurch forward painfully, dry-heaving. Her eyes stung with tears of pain, her mind buzzing as she kneeled, grasping the trunk of the tree to keep herself from falling, doubling over once more. Hardly able to breath, she tried to turn to Sweeney, gasping for air as she lurched.

"Mr.--Todd--! I can't--stop--!" She wheezed, not realizing that she was weeping. Everything hurt again, her thoughts having numbed the aches before. But now, falling to the side, she clutched her stomach, in so much pain, heaving again.

Surprisingly, he was at her side in a matter of seconds, lifting her gently from the ground so that she was sitting up. Todd leaned on one knee, moving to the right of her, placing his hands gently on the sides of her neck. "Try to calm yourself a little," he mumbled, moving his fingers in a circular motion as he massaged her throat.

Blinded with pain, Nellie tried to take breaths, coughing more, the heaving wearing away with the warm caressing of Sweeney's fingers. Her eyes were shut tight now and she began to weep a little more, despite his suggestion.

"'E was--sucha--bastard--" she cried with each harsh intake of breath, her throat searing once more, "bloody--scum of--the earth--!"

Todd shifted so that he was in front of her now, his hands gentle yet firm. "He's dead now," he assured quietly, having a hard time taking in her sorrow when he had thought no one but himself could feel such pain.

Nellie's shoulders shook as she weeped, bowing her head down at his touch, her curls falling from her shoulders and rippling downward, not unlike the branches of Johanna's tree. "It doesn't feel like 'e is," she told him, catching her breath a bit more.

Sweeney couldn't bright a response from his lips and therefore remained to massaging her neck, noticing some color had filled her face again as she looked up to him with pained tears, her auburn curls askew, her dark kohl smeared, looking oddly becoming in the orange beams of the sunset.

"It will in time, pet," he muttered, knowing both of them must look like the true lunatics they were inside as they kneeled, disheveled, bloody, everything out of place.

Nellie slowly lifted her sordid gaze to his, quivering under his touch, and Todd moved his hands from her neck to her shoulders, keeping her steady.

"We should leave," he spoke, the barber's voice sounding garbled and faint to Nellie, another wave of nausea hitting her, making her teeter despite Todd's grasp.

Even so, she gave him a sickly nod, grasping onto his bloodied shirt as she attempted to stand. Todd awkwardly helped Nellie to her feet, making sure she was firm on the ground before letting go. Feeling uncomfortable with their previous proximity, he quickly moved to the cab.

Her vision fuzzy, she set her jaw, sweating profusely despite the nippy wind, and took a few shaky steps forward, a miserable noise building up in her throat.

And then Nellie met the ground, harshly, a dull throb in her head as the sunset dimmed and swirled into black.

A/N: -dances- Yayay, short, I know. But a few things that have been troubling me have cleared up whilst writing this chapter. I'm happy with it. More detail will come about the abandoned house, not to worry!

Just a little note to all of you who read this story: MY MOUTH JUST DROPPED OPEN. As of right now, I have over 8500 hits on this story. MY GOODNESS. You have no idea how...how happy I am. 69 favs! 86 alerts! And nearing 200 reviews! I just want to thank you all, without you, I don't know. I'm so speechless, I don't know how to express myself through words for once. Just...thank you so much. I love you all for it.