Mrs

Frail

Disclaimer: I don't own Sweeney Todd or any related characters

Mrs. Lovett had always thought that she was a strong person. Day after day, she handled things that most people, most ordinary people, would never dream of handling, of doing. Her job was far from pleasant, and a part of her was pleased that she was the only one who had the stomach enough, the strength enough, to do it. The sight of blood never made her cringe, the smell of burning flesh never made her balk. As she sliced through body after body, tore skin from bone, picked up muscle after muscle, bloody tissue after bloody tissue, she felt absolutely nothing. No horror, no remorse just…Satisfaction. This was, after all, the meat that made her so famous, made her so wealthy now. How could she not like it, however disturbing it was. Or perhaps Sweeney Todd was just rubbing off on her.

Mrs. Lovett was strong when it came to running her business, always keeping a cool head, never panicking even when things got rough. Before Sweeney Todd had returned and her business had been failing, she had managed to scrounge up enough money again and again to save it from foreclosure, managed on her own to keep everything as it was. She had made sure her life had stayed steady, had worked her ass off by herself to keep everything she loved. She was not afraid to get dirty, nor was she willing to ever give in; she was tough, she followed her own rules, and she could handle almost anything.

Anything, that is, but not everyone. Sure, she was a great mother to Toby, and she had great people skills. She was never meek, always spoke her mind, and people respected her for that. She had a keen sense when it came to socializing—she chose her friends, however few she had, wisely under the satisfaction that they would not betray her. Yes, Mrs. Lovett was wonderful when it came to people, was completely self sufficient, unmistakably strong…

Until it came to Sweeney Todd.

Around him and only him, she was weak, almost pathetic really, and so, so, so mockingly frail. She knew that he could end her life with a flick of his wrist, and although she was not intimidated…he frightened her. In his moments of absolute insanity when the traces of Benjamin Barker were obscured, he was nothing more than a monster thirsting for blood, a victim of wrath, a sinner of vengeance. He lashed out at her mostly, only her, the strong one, and managed to at times bring her to her knees. He was the devil's incarnate; cruel, callous, and holding threads of madness.

With his cruelty he made her heart weak, made that frail thing that pounded so feebly and unprotected in her chest shatter, fragments of dark glass that he held, that his blood ran down. It was all his, her heart, and she could never get it back; she simply was not strong enough too. It remained in his clutches, leaving her frail and cold on the outside, and though her body moved about just as strong as ever inside…Inside she was nothing more than a pathetic mess, a puddle of blood, a helpless victim waiting for her murderer's—his—final blow.

And that blow, that final hit…It happened everyday. Mrs. Lovett built herself up for it, strengthened her barriers, set her mind to it, and yet…It did not matter; they all crumbled anyway, and in the end she was just as frail as before, her fragile heart holding another dent from his razor, from his black eyes.

She had grown used to it, his abuse of her heart. In fact, she had even come to expect it. Every time she went up to his shop, she knew that it was coming, that moment where her fragile heart would break. Her strong body, her will, carried her up to him, as her pathetic heart fluttered and exuberance and pain. She would get to see him, to be in his presence, but he would destroy her. She didn't mind it, as twisted as it was, until after it happened because still, no matter what, she got to see him. And that…that's all that mattered to her frail little heart.

She entered the room at the top of the stair s without knocking, as usual, knowing he was expecting her. She always visited around lunch when she was on her brief break, just to talk to him, even if he never really participated. His back was to her as she entered, and he did not turn away from the large window that overlooked London to acknowledge her. Mrs. Lovett knew by now not to take it to heart; as usual, he was lost in his fantasies involving killing Judge Turpin, and she had learned to expect no less.

She sat down in his empty barbering chair with a sigh, forcing herself not to think of how many lives had ended in this very chair as she focused on Sweeney's back.

"Good day Mr. T! Lovely weather today, isn't it? Toby and I were going to the market later, and I wanted to know if you'd might like to come?"

No answer; he didn't move at all. Was he even breathing? He made her wonder sometimes.

"Well Mr. Todd, that sure isn't helpful! Is that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" She tried, but still received no response. She sighed a little, shifting in the deceptively comfortable chair. Such an unexpected place to die…

Her eyes searched the bland room as she talked to herself about basically nothing. The business was running smoothly, Toby was a good lad, making the pies was getting easier, she had to sweep the shop soon…She was thinking of something more to say when she looked over and saw it, glinting in the feeble sunlight that poured in through the window. A razor…

Frowning, she stood and went over to it, lying on the floor a foot away from Mr. Todd's still form. Picking it up with delicate, work worn hands, she ran a finger over the designs on the handle, marveled at how cool it was. As cold as the man who wielded it…

She trialed a finger down that long, smooth blade, a blade that had dripped so many rubies, a blade that had cut through so many skin…It looked so lovely now, shining in the thin light, a thing of deceptive beauty…

A stab of pain shot up her finger, blood falling to the floor and staining the silver red as she flinched and drew her finger back, raising it to the light to stare at the cut she had made. She was almost fascinated as she watched the blood fall, her eyes following it down to the rough floor. So transfixed was she by her own blood that she did not notice the man she had shattered for turn and stare at her, his demonic eyes boring into her.

"So frail…"

Her head snapped up at his voice, her eyes widening in astonishment. He was looking at her, and talking to her…She lowered her bleeding appendage for a second to cock her head at him, trying not to seem too excited.

"What do you mean?"

She saw something flash through those dark eyes of his as annoyance danced across his pale, dashing features. "You're fragile," he repeated, and she was unable to stop from glaring at him.

"Fragile! No I'm not!" Even though, deep inside that withered heart, she knew he was right. He glared right back at her, gesturing to her injured digit. "Yes, you are. Fragile, pathetic…" Those eyes flashed again in that indefinable look as she stepped towards him, raising up the cut finger. "I cut this on accident on your stupid razor! Here, take the bloody thing back!" That said, she threw the silver razor, his weapon of choice, at his feet, where it landed with a seemingly amplified clatter that had her holding her breath.

He stared down at his "friend" at his feet for a moment, slowly reaching down to pick it up, and with the dangerous weapon in his hand once more, he looked dangerously complete, and when he looked up to meet her eye again, she knew that he body, so frail and weak around him, was his prey. She had learned not to struggle, as in two strides he stood in front of her, that deadly blade already stained with her blood pressed against her jugular. She stared up at him, his willing victim, hating herself for loving how happy she was that he was near her, noticing her, even under these conditions. He could slit her throat now if he wanted, and she would not mind; as long as she died by him, at his feet…So, so weak…

She was still, her eyes staring into his as he leaned in, her pulse fluttering beneath the blade, her body trembling not in fear but in excitement at his proximity. The strong Mrs. Lovett, the woman who saved her business by herself, worked day and night nonstop with little sleep, the woman who was so good with people, died as he leaned in closer to her, the blade pressing into her skin until a thin line of blood trailed down the graceful curve of her neck. She was breathing heavily, her heart wailing and rejoicing as his lips met hers almost savagely, consuming her, absorbing all of strength until she was on the floor, a speck of blood so insignificant on his blade, about to be wiped off. A delicate, fragile woman slowly being crushed, smothered by her unhealthy love, by his merciless lips that took but never gave.

She was limp when his lips left hers, dazed and broken as he whispered in her ear in a hiss the one thing she didn't want to believe, but the one thing that she knew was too true. "You're so frail…"

And then he was pushing her away from him, the blood covered knife sliding away as she nearly whimpered, nearly crumpled to the ground. She could not meet his eyes, did not want to; she knew what they would hold. Absolutely nothing, and that was the problem; flat, expressionless, pits of darkness…

Her fragile heart was in shards again, choking her as she turned and hurried out of the room, away from him and all the wretched feelings he cursed her with. The cut on her finger burned with her eyes as she hurried down the stairs back into her shop, going straight back to work, never resting, as she tried in vain to erase the frailty and feeling of his coarse lips on hers.

But one thing she could not ignore: she might consider herself a strong person, but when it came to Sweeney Todd, the person she loved, the one she grieved for…She was pathetically, hopelessly, and dangerously frail, and damn if he didn't know it, prey upon it…

And there was nothing in her fragile heart that she could do to stop him. The monster had control, and she…she was just too frail to break free.

Mrs. Lovett had always known that she was a frail person, and as long as Sweeney Todd was around, could never rid herself of it.

Yeah, I'm sorry if the end was really dragged out, I didn't know how to end it, ha. I have that problem. But anyway, I hope you liked it, cuz I just thought it up in school yesterday during a test, ha. I bet you I failed that test too so this chapter will have to make up for it! Please review, I love to hear your thoughts. Oh, and tell me if you have any suggestions, cuz I'm more than willing to listen.

Crazy