Mine

Mr. Todd doesn't like it when Mrs. Lovett flirts with a customer? Sweenett!! 

Chapter 6: Always

It seemed almost an eternity that he stood there, watching her, watching them, the sound of her sobs gradually subsiding as she began to calm down. He could give her this time to compose herself. His revenge was complete; he could afford to be patient now.

Eventually, she looked up at him, wiping her eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. T."

Not trusting himself to speak, he merely nodded. Even as her eyes still shone with tears, he could see her expression change, her practicality taking over.

"You look a fright, you do. All that blood, I'll never get it out of your clothes no matter how much I scrub …"

He ignored this. "What'll we do with the boy when he wakes up?"

She appeared to contemplate this, and then, the slight tilt of her head and the flash of her eyes told him that she had another clever little idea.

"Yes … and he's open all hours too … well then, I'll run down to the apothecary 'round the corner," she muttered, wincing apologetically as he shuddered, no doubt remembering Lucy and the arsenic. "He sells something that makes the memory go all fuzzy… I'll give it to Toby, and he'll sleep sound, and when he wakes, well, whatever he remembers … we'll … we'll just tell it was a horrible nightmare. We'll destroy all the evidence of course." She smiled slightly, seeming pleased with her plan, but Sweeney Todd was skeptical.

"You really think he'll believe it was all a dream?"

"He'll believe what he wants to believe, my love." She locked eyes with him. "We all do."

"Alright. You go to the apothecary. I'll start cleaning up here." He looked at her, but she did not move. "Well?"

Her gaze returned to Toby, the lad she still clutched and cradled in her arms. "I don't want to leave him … down here." She did not add with you, but she didn't have to; he easily gathered her meaning, and could hardly blame her for her thoughts.

"Mrs. Lovett … Nellie … If I had decided on killing him, I would have done it before. I won't harm the boy. I promise." He looked at her, holding her gaze. "Do you trust me?"

Mrs. Lovett swallowed, looking up at him. Anyone else who would have seen him looking as he did, wild hair, black eyes, pale as death, and covered with blood … a demon, they would've called him. But she saw something alive, something human, something familiar, and she answered him: "Yes. I do." And God help her, it was the truth too. She trusted him, her murderous lover, with the life of her precious little Toby.

"Alright then." Gently, she lay the boy down on the ground. Todd held out his hand to help her off the ground, and pulled her up. She looked at him for a moment. Even like this, his pale face streaked with red … he was beautiful.

"I won't be long," she whispered, and fairly flew up the stairs.

Underneath the turbulence of all her emotions, as she made her way to the apothecary, was the knowledge that, for the first time, Sweeney Todd had called her by her first name.

Mechanically, he set about cleaning up - the bones, the blood - disposing of it all as best he could. He would have to bury what did not burn. It was not easy work, he soon discovered – how the hell had she managed to do all this by herself? What a bloody wonder that woman was.

Fortunately, he was too busy concentrating on the work to think about anything else – specifically, about what would happen now that he had finally achieved his precious revenge. Still, part of him couldn't help but wonder – what would it be like, to be purposeless? Would it be freeing or frightening? Or both?

He was finishing up when Mrs. Lovett returned, hastening down the stairs, a bottle in her hand. Toby had not moved from where she'd laid him down, peacefully sleeping.

She looked around at Mr. Todd's handiwork, and seemed to approve of his cleaning skills, for she gave a little nod and a smile. As he silently watched, she propped Toby up, shook him slightly to wake him. Todd held his breath; this was the dangerous part.
"Mum?" Toby said groggily, sniffing the bottle that was so close to his face. "What's that?"

She swallowed. "It's medicine, my love. You're sick. Drink it down like a good lad."

He seemed to wake up more, his brow furrowing. "Don't feel sick …"

"Listen to your mum, now, dear. You are sick. This'll make you better."

He hesitated for a moment longer, then drank it as she bid. He coughed rather violently, making Mrs. Lovett's gasp with worry, but eventually, the coughs subsided and he lay down again, his breathing slow and steady, his sleep even deeper than before. She stroked his hair.

"That's my good boy. Nothing's gonna harm you, love, not while I'm around…" She looked up at Mr. Todd. "I'll just carry him upstairs and put him to bed. I'll be back, alright?" He only nodded. Smiling tenderly, she scooped the boy up in her arms and carried him away.

It seemed a long time that she was gone, and he no longer had any work to distract himself from his thoughts. What now? What was there after revenge? It was a disturbing question. Even more disturbing though, was that when he attempted to find an answer, all he could see was her face.

"Mr. T!" She burst back down into the cellar, and he started out of his reverie. Had someone found them out? "Oh Mr. T., that Anthony and your Johanna, they gave me such a fright! I had a hard time calming the poor girl down, poor thing, poor thing …it's good they had to leave in a hurry – I'm so sorry you didn't get to see her – but oh, Mr. T., she was dressed like a lad, and she said – you didn't –"

"Oh my god." Those delicate features. That high, unmanly voice. A flash of yellow hair showing from beneath the hat. He looked at Mrs. Lovett, a horrible comprehension dawning on his features. If she hadn't screamed … he would have …

He fell to his knees with the weight of it, the shock of it. What had he become? All the lives he had taken, they were nothing compared to even the possibility of hurting his daughter, Johanna. "What have I done?"

Instantly, Mrs. Lovett was kneeling beside him, her arms around him, desperate to comfort him. "There, there, love, you didn't do anything, all you did was give her a little fright, she's safe, she's with her love she is, they'll be safe and happy together now." Mindlessly, he laid his head on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, and then he felt her lifting him up.

"Come on then," she said gently, eminently practical and yet appropriate as always. "Let's get you cleaned up." They went upstairs.

Matter-of-factly, she helped him out of his clothes, and for once, it was not a matter of seduction. She drew a bath for him, and left him for a moment to dash back downstairs, tossing his bloodied garments into the flames. She went back upstairs and scrubbed him clean. He offered no resistance, seeming exhausted, half-dead, and a stark contrast to her adrenaline-fueled productivity. She helped him out of the tub, but when she began to towel him off, he clutched her hand, the faintest glimmer of annoyance in his eye. "I can do it," he growled, and she couldn't help smiling. It appeared her Mr. T. was back in the land of the living. Then her eyes locked with his, and the intensity of his gaze made the smile slip off her lips and took her breath away – whether in entrancement or dread, she did not know.

"Why?" He asked her.

She looked at him, confused. "Why what?"

"Why do you … all this … I almost killed Toby … I almost killed …" he stopped, unable to say her name, "…Why have you helped me so? Why do you still help me? Why do you do all this?"

Her eyes searched his, her expression incredulous. "Why? Do you not know? Do you not realize, after all this time, after all we've … after all I've done, that I …?"

"What?"

She swallowed nervously. She'd rather face all of his razors at once than answer this question. If she told him, what if he threw it back in her face? But she had to. Now or never.

"I love you." She waited for him to respond.

And waited.

And waited.

Yet he said nothing, merely looked at her in confusion, as if he could not fathom what she meant. After a long, torturous moment, he finally began to speak.

"But … how … why? How can you possibly … why do you love me?"

Mrs. Lovett took a breath. "Well, I always had a fondness for you, I did… before," she said softly, "and then when you come back, I could see in your eyes … all that pain, at that loss … and I thought to myself 'I know what that feels like.' I thought I could help you, I thought I could heal you… I thought …" her voice quavered.

"You're a dark jewel, Sweeney, you are, and I shouldn't have let it happen … shouldn't have let you take over me heart, shouldn't have let you conquer me completely, but … no one and nothing has ever excited me so, made me feel as alive as you do. Don't you see what you do to me? I can't help it anymore than I can help breathing. I love you."

He stared at her, and she couldn't fathom his expression. Then, very softly, he said, "Say it again."

"What? Say what?"

"That last part. Say it again." He paused, seeming almost desperate. "Please."

She looked at him, comprehension dawning. "I … love you?"

He took her face in his hands, the towel dropping between them. "Yes. Again," he demanded.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you…"

He kissed her then, full on the lips, wrapping his arms around her, pressing his body to hers. "Say it again," he breathed between kisses, devouring her skin with his mouth, hastily pulling off her clothes, leaving her barely able to breathe, much less gasp out the words he demanded. "Again, my pet. Please."

"I love you – ah!" She gasped in pleasure at the way he was kissing her, the way he was touching her. It was …different, somehow, than all their times before. She couldn't exactly tell how, but … she liked it. Loved it.

Loved him.

And he didn't seem to mind hearing it either. In fact, the words seemed to be an aphrodisiac, and the more she said them, the more passionate he became, as he scooped her up, as he pressed her eagerly onto the bed, and he kissed and caressed her with an urgent and greedy hunger.

"You're mine," he growled, stroking her wetness, devouring her moans with kisses. "You're mine. Always." He stopped and looked at her.

"Say it. Believe it. You're mine. You belong to me."

She could refuse him nothing. Especially not when his fingers were doing that …she let out a little whimper of delight.

"I'm yours," she breathed, "I belong to you. Yours, Sweeney, yours."

"Always?
"Always. I love you, and I'm yours. Always…"

"Yes." Wild, frantic kisses and caresses, and she moaned loudly as he entered her, their lust and their need more intense than ever. He thrust into her, hard, fast, desperate, reveling in the joy of joining their bodies again, experiencing a bliss that was (though he'd never admit it) even more intense and pleasurable than taking his revenge. She was almost crying with the beauty of it, feeling so good it was almost too much to bear. She was close and so was he, and they came together, for the first time, climaxing violently in one another's arms, collapsing together in exhausted contentment.

They lay in each other's arms, and as she was succumbing to sleep, she heard him whisper, "Say it again."

"I love you," she whispered back, holding him tighter and kissing him softly. "I love you, and I'm yours. Always."

A/N: Well, I hope I managed to keep it Sweenett will still keeping Todd IC. Please review, and Happy New Year!