Dark Tears

Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd

This chapter is for everyone that reviewed, you guys are awesome! I'm sorry if you wanted a reply, I, uh, am ashamed to admit that I just learned how to reply, ha. Yes, I know, sad. You can laugh at me if you want, cuz I certainly am!

The first time he saw them, the rage had practically blinded him. They had stood right outside of her shop, at the doorstop to his house, and talked, smiled, and flirted. There had been no shame in their actions, and when that brute had leaned in to her, captured her red lips in a kiss, he had had to look away to scream.

Since he had looked away, he had not seen her push him away, not seen her scowl and leave her date at the door. He did not see it, so he did not know of it, did not know that she truly did not like that man, did not know that Mr. Sullivan was not the one that held her heart. No, he had not seen it, so he was under the assumption that the baker was in love with Mr. Sullivan, and the concept infuriated him to a point where all he saw was red.

Sweeney Todd could not explain his reaction; a part of him did not want to know. But the thought of Mrs. Lovett with any man, especially one such as Mr. Sullivan…

It made him want to kill for a reason other than revenge.

He was not at all dull; he knew that some form of jealously was infiltrating his brain, and it infuriated him even more. To feel such things about her, to be so damn protective…It made him want to just go down to her shop and slit her throat, especially now, considering her frivolous intentions concerning Mr. Sullivan. That man was simply useless—why could she not see that? He looked the part of a gentleman through and through, but he would never be enough for her. No one would. Not so long as Mrs. Lovett was in Sweeney Todd's dark heart, no one else could have her; he'd make sure of that.

So he had devised a plan, a sinister one, to dispose of the problem. Sweeney doubted that Mrs. Lovett would agree to her 'lover' dying, so he did not involve her. It was his secret, and she would only know about it once it was complete.

He'd seen him lurking around the shop a lot recently, and in his wrath he failed to notice that Mr. Sullivan was never invited in. Just knowing that he was there to see her, to sweep her away from him and his darkness was enough to have Sweeney Todd clutching his razor so tight that its handle left an imprint in his hand. He'd quickly deal with this fool of a man and end all doubts that Ms. Lovett—the only person he really had—would leave him.

So it was with a smile that he approached Mr. Sullivan, and in a deceptively smooth voice, so sinisterly beguiling, offered him a free shave. Oh yes, the closest shave he would ever know.

It was unfortunate for Mr. Sullivan that Mrs. Lovett was not in her shop to see the interaction and stop it. The man was oblivious to the attentions of the demon barber, as all of his customers were, and with a bright smile and a nod followed Sweeney Todd up to his death.

The room looked ordinary, the barbering chair comfortable. The sun poured weakly in through the window to highlight it, making it look deceptively wonderful, almost angelic. Mr. Sullivan sat down in it willingly, eagerly, bearing his neck to the mad Mr. Todd. It nearly made the demon barber smile. He gullible, how deceivable; certainly not the kind of man Mrs. Lovett needed. No, Mrs. Lovett needed someone a bit…

He drew his razor out, felt the edge.

Sharper.

Mr. Sullivan was talking about how he wanted a shave to look good for Mrs. Lovett, and Sweeney Todd would give him one. Oh yes, a very good shave that would make Mrs. Lovett love him instantly. That was what he told the man, this gigantic fool of a man, before he brought the blade to his neck.

He could not help, before the blade glided over the jugular and blood spilled free, but lean down to whisper into Mr. Sullivan's ear an ultimatum, the reason behind his demise. It was a simple, three words laced with all the malice in the world:

"She is mine…"

And then the blood was gushing out, and Mr. Sullivan was drawing his last breath on a scream that was never released. His body went down the chute without further delay, a smirk on Mr. Todd's lips as he watched the body fall and hit the ground below with a sickening crack. Mrs. Lovett would shortly discover the body of her lover, and he did not care; she deserved the pain, just as much as he deserved the darkness. They were, after all, two killers. How could they not be together?

He fell back into his chair, coated in Mr. Sullivan's blood, and laughed for the first time in years, but not the laugh that he remembered; he laughed the laugh of Sweeney Todd now and the darkness and coldness of it made a shudder trace down his own spine.

Sweeney Todd always got what he wanted or else.

--

He had been expecting her. So when she arrived at his apartment door, pale and furious, he was not surprised. He stayed in his barbering chair—the chair of death—not bothering too look up at her from the floor as she stormed into the room, her sobbing breaths breaking the silence.

He listened as she shifted, felt rather than saw her fury and felt a stab of satisfaction at it. Fury he had caused…

"W-Why?" she stammered, still too distraught to form a coherent sentence. But he knew what she was talking about, and nearly snarled. He offered the simplest explanation, one that they could both make sense of.

"Because he was in the way."

"I-In the way?" she repeated in a whisper, and he flicked the razor in his hand, not deeming her with a response. He felt her anger building, felt the grief tear through her, and felt more satisfaction. He was putting her pain, just like she put him in pain by making him feel. Sweeney Todd was not supposed to have emotions; he was supposed to be dead, striving only for revenge and bloodshed. And yet Mrs. Lovett…She had changed that, and she needed to pay for it.

"Yes, he was a distraction to you."

"No goddamn you, he wasn't! He didn't know anything and you…You…You didn't even tell me you were going to kill him!" she was screaming, and when he looked up from his glinting blade to her dark eyes he saw that they were filling with dark tears. They made his eyes narrow, made him stand from his chair of death.

"You cry for him?" he growled, even though he had known she would. Even if he didn't want her to, she would.

Her face was a mask of pain and fury as she stared at him, this demon before her, not bother to wipe away the tears that streamed in dark rivulets down her face.

"Of course I do you ninny, he was a good man, no matter what!"

A good man…Those words mocked Sweeney Todd, rattled the cage in which he was trapped until there was no choice but to lash out at her. "A good man?" he laughed that dark laugh again, so sickly and revolting that she flinched back, her dark eyes of clouded pain widening as he took a step towards her wearing the look of a predator stalking his helpless prey—her.

"Of course you considered him a good man, Mrs. Lovett, of course you do. What, with being his little whore and all…"

"Whore?" she repeated with a slight tremor in her voice, her dark eyes widening and narrowing in turn. "I was never his whore Sweeney Todd! What would make you even think-"

"Oh I don't know! Perhaps it is the tears you shed for him madam!" Mr. Todd all but roared, and Mrs. Lovett took a step back, towards the door.

"He was my friend, you bastard, my friend! Nothing more, nothing less and-"

"And 'friends' don't kiss each other! Do not lie Mrs. Lovett, I saw you, I saw you with him!"

"You saw us?" For a moment the color drained from her already pallid complexion, making her appear truly dead. It was then that Sweeney Todd realized he had her, and hated her for it.

"So you don't deny it…" He took another step towards her, turning the razor over and over again in his hand. She backed away, looking around wildly, frantically.

"No, you're wrong dear, it was nothing! Did you not see when I pushed him away?"

"If you really pushed him away then why did he keep coming back!?" Sweeney hissed, leaning towards her with the razor raised. Mrs. Lovett's back hit the wall, and she knew that he had her trapped, just as he wanted her.

"He came back because he was desperate! Please Sweeney love, it was nothing!"

"Then why do you cry!" He roared, and in an instant he pounced, lunging forward so that his body was towering over hers, one of his hands bracing him on the wall by her head as the other raised his friend to her throat, that pale, slender throat. He snarled down at her, dark eyes pools of demonic rage that had her gasping, trying to lean back as far as she could into the wall. He pressed the blade brutally into her beck until a thin trail of blood appeared, the red of it vibrant against her pale skin. And she never stopped crying those dark tears.

"Why do you cry…" he growled low in his throat, leaning forwards so that he was an inch away from those dark tears, her liquid eyes. He felt her shudder, saw her lashes flutter and spill more tears. "Answer!"

"I cry…" she looked directly at him, her dark eyes staring into his soul, past all those dark deeds and black tears, past all the blood and agony. She could have been crying for many reasons. Mr. Sullivan, god forbid, was one of them, and his untimely death. She could have been crying from fear of him, this demonic barber pressing a blade to her throat, but she was not. She was not scared, and although Mr. Sullivan's death was a tragedy, she was not that sad. No, what she really cried for was right in front of her, in the dark eyes of the man she loved.

"I cry for you Sweeney Todd, for how you handled this. You had to kill for me…Because you knew no other way. You had to do such a heinous unnecessary act for no reason other than your feelings, feelings that you do not know how to handle yet have, and can't get rid of. I…these tears are all for you Sweeney Todd."

IN them, in their dark depths, he could have sworn he saw his reflection, and knew that she was telling the truth. It made something inside of his twist, something that had not moved in so long, and he nearly gasped, his black eyes widening. Those tears she shed, one by one for him, were slicing a hole in him, somewhere deep inside the darkness of his soul. Those dark tears…

The razor clattered to the floor as he pressed his lips to hers, taking all that he could get in this single moment of weakness, feeling her respond with tangible feelings of dread and relief. Those dark tears smeared on his face as he devoured her, this willing soul that was all his, and only would ever be his. Mrs. Lovett was his murderess, and he hated yet adored her in equals for it.

It was when she began to respond, her soft red lips moving in ardor, that he pushed her away, slamming her hard into the wall as he stepped back, hurried back over to his barbering chair to leave her alone against the wall, not even sparing her another glance. He resumed his position in his chair, eyes on the floor, razor out, as though nothing had ever happened—which was what he was determined to believe. Mr. Sullivan's body, the only evidence, would be devoured by hungry customers shortly, and there would be nothing left to speak for any of his emotions, those wretched things, except for in the easily ignorable wrenching of his heart.

When his shop door opened and closed with a rattle that shook the walls and he was left alone again, he did nothing, just stayed as he was, an undead soul blackened with blood and tainted with dark tears shed from liquid russet eyes.

I've always wondered what Sweeney would be like if there was another man, cuz I'm a sucker for that whole jealous romance thing. So I threw this dark little piece together to explore that, and, well, this was it! What'd you think?

Please Review and I'll definitely write more!