Yeah, I know, it's freakin' short. Anyway, read and review, please! Any mistakes are mine alone.
Disclaimer: Hahaha…..no.She was the perfect model of acute efficiency, coming up with plan after plan to weave this scheme for him, to cover up his mistakes and protect him when his plans-her plans, really- didn't go as they had planned them.
He was dead to the world, always, far-off in some distant world where he had his perfect wife, his perfect child. They had been happy, and he couldn't get past the fact that that wouldn't happen now, it couldn't. Lucy was dead.
Well, no, she wasn't, not really. Mrs. Lovett had made sure he couldn't know that, though. And he never would. It was her little secret, between her and that filthy beggar woman who terrified her whenever she came near. The idea that she might recognize him-or worse, he her, made Mrs. Lovett lie awake at night, contemplating the horrors that could arise if one little puzzle piece of her plan were to somehow become misplaced. But that couldn't happen, she would remind herself. She had woven this plot perfectly, and there was no way it could go wrong.
She played the role of the devoted sidekick, the heartless assistant. It didn't matter to her, it was helping her get to him. As she chopped up bodies and drained blood, she fantasized about what life would be like for them once he'd come through with his plan. As she ground the mutilated flesh into neat piles of pie meat, she imagined living with him, married, maybe by the seashore. With her precious Toby-she had developed quite the fondness for the child-and maybe even his silly little Johanna, if she could ever get over how much the girl was bound to look like her mother. Yellow hair and all. She spat into an unbaked pie.
Even when he had had that stupid little nit of a wife, she had pined for him. Her husband had mysteriously died years before, and now she could actually see hope for happiness shining in her future. With him. Not Sweeney, not Mr. Todd, but Benjamin, the handsome, witty barber who had lived and kept a business above her pie shop.
He would brood away, but it didn't matter to her. He viewed her as his perfect accomplice, his trusted, devoted second half in this dangerous game they were playing.
He trusted her completely, and all she would need now would be some time to turn trust into longing, longing into affection, affection into love.
Human into corpse, corpse into meat, meat into pie.
After all, efficiency was her specialty. Efficiently and heartlessly, her plan would work out right in the end.