Chapter 5

Hi everyone! Thanks for the reviews. I love that there's so many other Helena fans here, hehe. I'm glad to hear that lots of you liked "The Heart of Me". Amazing movie, eh?

Alright, for some reason this chapter took me ages to write. Some of the emotions were pretty hard to capture. Hope it turned out alright.

Mrs. Lovett slowly opened the door to see Mr. Todd pacing back and forth in front of his large window, sliding the shining blades of two razors against each other. "Mr. T?" she asked carefully, still standing in the doorframe.

"Get out," he replied, throwing a glare in her direction.

"I need to talk to you," she said, staying where she was.

"I said leave, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney snapped.

"I'm not bloody leavin', Mr. T!" she exclaimed, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her. Sweeney narrowed his eyes. "I need to talk to ya, that's all."

"What is there to talk about?" he muttered, turning away from her, almost absent-mindedly beginning to sharpen his razors again.

"What the 'ell do ya think there is?!" she nearly shouted back. "I mean to apologize for what 'appened. This morning, I mean," she said, exasperated. Sweeney snapped his eyes back to her. The bitch wouldn't let go, would she? "I didn't mean to upset you," she finished. Sweeney eyed her up and down. Completely in spite of himself, he nodded slowly before turning from her once again. What is she doing to me? Bloody woman wouldn't stay out of his mind. He hated her for that. He hated her for trying to make him feel. Make him love. The judge, Sweeney. You need to kill the judge. He held a razor up to his eye level, staring at the hard reflection it permitted him. How you've changed. You're a new man, and this man does not feel. "Mr. T?" came her voice, breaking his thoughts. "Wot ya thinkin'?" she inquired. Sweeney's eyes rested on her in a fierce look again.

"I need to kill the judge…" he replied, almost absent-mindedly. It was strange how accustomed he was becoming to the idea. To him, those words had become such a part of him that uttering them seemed nonchalant. Mrs. Lovett sighed.

"Can't you think of anything else?" she asked, walking over to him. He looked down at her, the glare still etched into his face.

"I thought I told you to leave, Mrs. Lovett," he said, moving over to the small table where his old, faded photograph of Lucy and Johanna stood. He raised his hand, lightly touching the edges.

"Well I'm telling you that I'm not leaving," she replied defiantly, half stomping over to where he stood to angrily look him in the face. "Look, Mr. T," she started, her voice gaining confidence. "I do wha' I can, all for you, and all you seem to do is sit up 'ere and brood about what happened all those years ago!" she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word.

"Mrs. Lovett…" Sweeney's voice was a warning as he kept his eyes locked on the portrait. Lucy's eyes stared back at him, although it was Mrs. Lovett's gaze that kept invading his mind. He fought back those thoughts, seething. Sweeney. Todd. Does. Not. Feel…

"Look at you, there you go again! Always consumed by those stupid thoughts of your goddamned Lucy!" she suddenly burst out, and with those words she brought her palm down to swiftly knock the portrait off the table. The frame shattered as it hit the floor, sending bits of broken glass scattering across the wood. Mrs. Lovett froze as she realized what she had done, wishing with everything that she could take back those words. She hastily began to apologize, only to stop as she saw the look of fury pass over Sweeney's face. Her heart began to pound as he snapped his gaze to her, his eyes flashing with rage.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. T…" she stammered, her voice quivering with fear. Sweeney looked down at the now shattered portrait of his Lucy.

"Do you realize, Mrs. Lovett, that I could kill you? Right here and right now?" he muttered darkly, pulling a razor out of his pocket. Mrs. Lovett trembled. This is the man you love, Nellie? She choked back a whimper at the thought. "It would be easy…" he trailed off, running his finger along the gleaming edge of the razor. You could kill her Sweeney. Slit her throat. As you said, it would be easy... He raised his eyes again to look at her. He froze when he saw the pleading look in her eyes. The way she shook with fear struck something in him. He looked down at his razor once more before letting his arm drop limp to his size, the razor dangling useless in his hand. There was a tense moment of silence between them. Both breathing hard, staring at each other. Sweeney tightened his grip on the razor again, and suddenly, overcome with an emotion he couldn't define, briskly stepped over to Mrs. Lovett, taking her roughly by the waist, pressing her body forcefully to his. He stared down into her eyes, wide with confusion and fear. His body shook with a strange mixture of rage and lust and he lifted the razor to press at the back of her neck. Mrs. Lovett let a gasp escape from her lips. What is he doing? He brought his mouth down on hers, violently slamming his tongue into her mouth, still keeping a tight grip on the razor he held behind her neck. She moaned into his mouth. How this was turning her on was beyond her. It was a mix of fear and desire on her part, and she pressed against him harder, breaking away from his mouth to catch her breath. His grip on her was bruising, and she let out a hiss from the pain and he squeezed his hands around her arms.

Sweeney himself was taken aback at what he was doing. Willing himself to stop, he tried to loosen his grip on her. His own lust was winning the battle though, and he felt the abrasive fabric of his trousers growing more painful by the moment. He despised her. Despised her for making him feel. Making him weak. He growled slightly, tightening his grip again. He wanted to hurt her, to make her feel the pain she caused him by making him want her. "I hate you!" he spat, roughly pulling her dress up to reveal her bloomers. The huskiness of his voice betraying his words.

Mrs. Lovett let out another gasp as he moved his hand to rub her most intimate area. Frenziedly, she began to kiss his neck. This was most definitely the strangest encounter she had ever had with him. God, she loved him. She really did, and even now when he was being so violent with her, all she wanted was to tell him that over and over.

Sweeney frantically tore at her bloomers, pulling them off in a number of awkward motions. He finally got them off, throwing them to the side before undoing his own trousers. His mind was a blur as he entered her, furiously going at it while she went rigid in his grip.

Mrs. Lovett let out a cry of pleasure as it built up, climaxing in a flare of pleasure. "Mr. T!" she shrieked, tossing her head back as the climax ended, and they lowered to a slower pace. They leaned against each other, limp and gasping from the vigor of what they had just done. After a moment or so of confused silence, they broke away from each other, staring in bewilderment at each other, both faces flushed and still catching their breath. Sweeney's mind was a muddle of emotions. He abruptly turned away, fixing his gaze on the cracked mirror that stood in the corner. Fixing his gaze on anything but her. "I-I'm going to go open the shop. Toby'll be wondering where I went off to…" she said softly, straightening her dress.

"Yes, o-of course," Sweeney muttered in reply. "I'll be setting mine up as well."

"Alright then…I'll…be seeing you later, love," she said, turning to leave the room. Bits of glass from the shattered portrait clinked underneath the heels of her boots as she reached the door and opened it.

"Mrs. Lovett…" Sweeney's voice came from the corner.

"Yes?" she turned around to see him still staring at the mirror.

"I…accept your apology," he said. "I mean…I forgive you. " Mrs. Lovett was taken aback, and stared at him for a moment before shaking herself. He abruptly turned to her, giving her a pointed gaze.

"Thank you, love," she said, and with a small smile walked out the door. It was acceptance she saw in him then, and the thought gave her a slight shiver of delight as she walked down into the kitchen and then down into the bakehouse. Steamy images passed through her mind as she put a tray of yesterday's pies into the oven. She bit her lip. Dear Lord, we're behind today, she thought. More images of the previous encounter pierced her thoughts, and she felt a recognizable tingling between her legs. Oh God…Today would be most difficult to keep her mind on her work…

GAH! This took me ages to write. Some of these emotions I tried to convey were so difficult to write down…it's a little complicated to get out in words...and I'm wondering if this seemed a bit all-over-the-place.. I really want this to be something that people like…so if you have any criticism, do share ) lol.